The House of Hades fanfiction
by vvGirlNextDoor889vv
Summary: Whatever you do, don't mention the word "Tartarus" to the rest of the Seven. All of them are devastated. They "captured" a pawn, and ended up losing the King and Queen. But they have to move on, and fulfill their promise to Percy. Meanwhile, two of the world's most powerful demigods are stuck in Hell. Will they survive? Or will they die? Read on to find out! [Please give reviews!]
1. I: Annabeth

The pain was worse than Annabeth let on.

Percy held her tight, and Annabeth let no sound of pain escape from her lips. He was busy trying to hold on to her, so he probably didn't notice her grimaces.

It was dark in Tartarus. There were times, when Annabeth crawled under the covers of her bed, she thought about all the times she'd battled spiders on their quests. The darkness around them felt like a crushing blackness threatening to split their heads open and do them a Dionysus.

Her ankle flared. Annabeth cursed silently. What was wrong with her? Everything seemed to slow down, and if Percy hadn't been at her side, Annabeth would never have found the courage to continue falling. As if she had a choice, anyways.

She thrust her free hand into her belt. Oh no. Her dagger, the one Luke gave her all those years ago, when everything was sort of pitch-perfect and all, the one which had saved her life so many times, the one which had finally resolved the Second Titan War, was gone. "Lost" might be a better word.

Meanwhile, her laptop, Daedalus' farewell to her, with all those awesome programs and files, was also gone, along with her dagger. She felt like she'd just lost one of her best friends. Annabeth had gotten so used to using the dagger and the laptop that she couldn't imagine living without them.

All those memories, fighting monsters with Luke and Thalia at her side, Grover somewhere near her, were gone with the dagger. All those brilliant plans and ideas, formulated by the greatest mortal inventor of all time: Daedalus, a man Annabeth had admired her entire life, were now lost, maybe forever. She wanted to snatch them out of the threatening darkness and hold them in her hands. They wouldn't help much, but at least she'd feel safer with them.

Somewhere near her, Percy was muttering silently, mumbling words that didn't seem like words to Annabeth. More like…numbers.

Percy never calculated something unless there was a calculator nearby, or if Annabeth was present. She wondered what changed her boyfriend's personality drastically, during those hard months of separation.

His grip tightened on her. She cried out in pain. In addition to her flaring ankle, she now had to deal with the expected bruises on her hand.

"Sorry," he whispered. "I couldn't help it."

He was right. If Annabeth had to choose between getting a bruise and getting separated from each other, there was no strong competition. She'd choose the first, naturally.

She wondered vaguely when the fall would end. The pit seemed to go on forever. Time slowed down around them. They could've been falling for years. Everything seemed so unnatural and cold. Even Percy stopped mumbling things and was probably listening hard for any signs.

"You okay, Wise Girl?" he asked Annabeth.

She nodded, forgetting that he couldn't see her face through the darkness. "Yes," she answered sadly. Then, forgetting herself, forgetting what her boyfriend had sacrificed in order to be with her, she punched Percy's arm, hard.

"OW!" He yelled in pain, his grip on her slackening a little.

But Annabeth didn't care. A new reckless rage had settled itself on her. She didn't know why, but she didn't care. All she knew was that she was recklessly angry at Percy Jackson.

"How could you?" Annabeth growled at him. Even though she couldn't make out his face, she thought she saw confusion on his face, if she could even see it. It was practically too dark to see anything. She punched him again, this time in the face.

"How could I what? And watch out for the- Hey! Stop that!"

"How could you fall with me?"

"What were those punches for, Wise Girl?"

"For falling with me."

Annabeth had to admit her boyfriend's questions seemed reasonable. Why did she feel so angry and jealous?

Percy laughed, and suddenly the cloud of anger and hatred inside her dissolved, if clouds could dissolve.

Annabeth was surprised to find out that neither of them had screamed, held themselves in terror, or fainted from fear. That should have been pretty obvious, but she hadn't paid attention to them before. Now that her boyfriend had stopped laughing, she gripped his wrist tighter.

"So we're in Hell, right?"

Annabeth didn't answer him, because it was pretty obvious. Whatever Tartarus had set out for them, it was sure to be nasty, and one extra monster meant an extra five percent from their survival rate, which was currently about 50%, minus the extra danger of falling from the ground towards the deepest part of the world about a hundred meters per second, even faster than gravity. Annabeth wasn't sure how she knew. It was almost as if Athena was speaking to her in her mind.

Her backpack was also gone. Ambrosia, nectar, clothes, food, matches, string (oh, how useful!) were there. They were seriously the most ill-fortuned demigods in the whole world.

They continued falling in silence for about an hour (it seemed like an hour to Annabeth) before Percy spoke again.

"Any ideas when we stop?"

Annabeth muttered, "No" and snuggled into his chest. According to her calculations, they had been falling for about two hours by now. And the fall seemed like it would never end.

She imagined, just for a second, that the two of them were riding a car. Percy's dream car, a Maserati Spyder. And her head was on his shoulder, the two of them watching the glorious sunset. That was the teenage stereotype of dates: You get a date, the two of you date, you ride into the sunset, and either get married or break-up. Then, Happily Ever After. Annabeth wished that applied to demigods.

But demigods had no such luck. There were no "HAPPILY EVER AFTER"s for them; instead, they spent their time running away from evil beings and trying not to get themselves killed.

She closed her eyes and told Percy to do the same.

"We're not gonna be landing any time soon, Seaweed Brain. So sleep while you can."

He didn't argue, maybe because he didn't want her punching him, or maybe because he trusted her. Or maybe he was just too tired to argue. Whatever reason it might have been, Annabeth didn't really care.

She didn't tell Percy all the fear inside her, all the doubt and worry. They would get out, she was sure of that, but would they ever be the same? Would they be heavily scarred for the rest of their lives? Athena didn't speak to her again, which just made her feel more miserable. _Great. Now even my mom's not talking to me._

Annabeth wasn't sure when she fell asleep, but of course the dreams came after her when she did.

She was standing near Harry Houdini, the maniac who "supposedly could escape from Tartarus himself." As far as Annabeth knew, Houdini was a half-blood, but he was probably a son of Morpheus or Hypnos, because she figured out he'd just make people drowsy so that they'd see things and he'd be able to "prove" he was really a magician.

Annabeth glanced down below her and gave a yelp. She was dressed in a long skirt and a white long-sleeved blouse, her rather stylish shoes standing out in the sunlight. If she were made to pick clothes for her to wear, she would definitely not pick this outfit. It was too girly for her, and anyways it made monster fighting and quick getaways a lot harder.

Houdini had just finished performing "The Chinese Water Torture Cell," again, and was making his way towards Annabeth, the reason of this unknown to his bewildered fans behind him. She was surprised, but gained confidence after seeing him looking like he'd realized who she was: a demigod just like him.

He waved his fans away, and they trudged away from him. Now they'd be able to talk without bothersome people trying to break their conversation.

"I know you're a demigod like me."

Annabeth jumped. She had not expected Houdini to speak in his usual voice. She had expected a hurried whisper issuing out from his mouth to her.

"I know I am, Mr. Houdini. I need your help. Word is that Tartarus can't even imprison you. Is that true?"

He paused for a moment before answering. "I don't know. Why are you asking me this, young demigod?"

"Because we're in Tartarus."

He actually laughed. "So you're from the future, all right? Well, I must have known this. Aion helping you? No? Well, as you have said, you need help escaping from Tartarus. That old prison. Hmmmmm….. Ah! Just remember: Hesiod said that it takes nine days to reach Tartarus, but I wouldn't count on that."

He waved his hand, and Harry Houdini, son of Hypnos or Morpheus, vanished, leaving Annabeth all alone in her dream.

"Wake up."

Percy shook her shoulder and Annabeth opened her eyes. They hadn't stopped falling. The fall must have lasted another couple of hours more since the last time they checked. That was odd. But Houdini told her it wasn't like Hesiod had said- a nine days fall, so maybe they'd hopefully slow down and land any moment now.

The darkness remained overwhelming. Annabeth was beginning to see shapes in the dark, shapes that morphed into human skulls grinning at them. She blinked hard, and the white flashes of light went away.

Annabeth touched Percy's face. Strangely, it was wet. And he couldn't be crying, because a person crying would be shaking, and he wasn't shaking. More like he was injured.

She felt for his arms and pressed on them, hard. As she had expected, Percy yelled in pain.

"Where did you get all these wounds, Seaweed Brain?" Annabeth asked her boyfriend quietly, but with a dangerous edge to her voice.

"The cars." _The cars?_ Annabeth thought? What did he mean?

Then suddenly she could see through the darkness. Not entirely, but she could see the rocky cylindrical shape of the pit and her boyfriend's face. She could also see the cars; a dozen perfectly good cars that Percy might have admired: a Maserati Spyder, a BMW X3 SUV, an Enzo Ferrari, an Audi Q7, a Porsche Panamera, an Aston Martin One-77, a Lamborghini Reventón,to name a few.

Nearly all of the cars were recked, which was a shame. With the rocks bumping into them going a hundred miles per hour, it was a miracle they survived this long.

As Annabeth watched, two collided with each other, recking each other even more. Then the Porsche came barreling straight towards them.

With one move, Percy pushed the car away from them, resulting in more bruises and cuts in his hands and arms.

Annabeth couldn't stop the tears from overflowing. Her boyfriend was just so godly. He had saved her from death so many times her own feeble attempts to save his could be overlooked easily. He even refused immortality for her.

At that moment, Annabeth knew she could never leave Percy alone again. When she thought of how she had suffered during those months of separation from him, she had thought it was hard. But how easy it looked like compared to her boyfriend's many demeanors. He had been put to sleep, in the dead of winter, and probably had been freezing, just wearing a thin shirt and jeans for protection from the bitter wind, compared to her, in the Big House, feeling helpless and angry at the gods.

He hugged her more tightly while she sobbed. For a moment, neither of them said a word. Finally, choking back another sob, Annabeth told Percy about what she felt.

He was silent. Annabeth wondered if he was thinking the same things she was. She never could have lived through those hard months without the assurances of her various friends that he was alive.

She didn't care about the prophecy. _Screw the world_, Annabeth thought. The world could wait a month. She couldn't even wait for a second longer.

"I suppose Houdini's right," he said, just to break the silence, though in a rather small and yet brave voice. "Look under you."

Annabeth cursed. The ground was coming up, and they were two half-bloods whose only goal for now was not to be dead. She wondered if the impact would hurt. Her ankle had to be well by now, right?

She closed for her eyes and waited for the strong impact. Instead, it never came.

Annabeth landed hard on her ankle, again. Any healing done by the ambrosia was sure to be useless, since it was broken again, this time more severely.

It was a few moments before Annabeth contemplated her surroundings. Tartarus was an endless dark maze, with jagged rocks protruding out of the ground and drops of dried blood on the ground.

She suddenly realized that, although her ankle hurt, a lot, the rest of her body wasn't affected by the dodgy landing. And where was Percy?

There was a faint bronze light being emitted in the darkness. It could've been Riptide or her blade.

Annabeth scooted towards it, ignoring the bursts of pain in her ankle. The pain could wait. If it was really her dagger, then it'd mean her backpack, along with her laptop, was safe. Then she'd swallow the ambrosia and drink some nectar to relieve her of the pain.

She finally reached the place and picked the dagger up. It was hers, all right, but she could have exchanged it just to be with her Seaweed Brain. Her backpack was right beside her laptop. Inside she found the supplies she so badly needed. With one gulp, she gobbled up two large squares of ambrosia. Instantly, she felt dizzy. Demigods were only supposed to nibble at the godly food one at a time, unless there was an emergency. And this certainly qualified as one.

She placed the laptop inside her backpack, placed her bronze dagger inside her dagger case on her belt, and trudged on to the darkness.

After an hour or so of continuous walking, she began to feel worried. Her optimism was slowly changing into pessimism. Arachne wasn't anywhere in sight. Monsters hadn't attacked her. That was good, but her boyfriend still wasn't anywhere to be found. And she couldn't just call for him, because her voice would serve as a bait for monsters like Cyclopes, who'd probably imitate her voice to trick Percy into following the voice until they had him captured. Annabeth couldn't risk that happening.

She bent down, touching the rocky ground at her feet. She could see footprints, meaning someone had been here, monster or demigod or god. Or maybe Percy, her lost boyfriend.

She couldn't just sit on the ground and cry out in despair. She was Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena. She couldn't just give up.

Annabeth got up and started walking again. Now there were monsters that attacked her, but they were insignificant. As she walked farther, though, she noticed more and more monsters were there, trying to stop her from entering. But she couldn't just stop. Her boyfriend might be there, trapped, desperately in need of her, gravely injured.

A voice she knew all too well spoke to her. It was Percy's voice.

"Annabeth! Help! These monsters are going to roast me alive! Please! Come quickly!"

Annabeth stopped dead in her tracks. What if it was a trick, a Cyclops imitating Percy's voice? Or what if it was really Percy, crying out for her to go help him out from here?

Deciding not to reply, she trudged on as best as she could with a broken ankle, which still hurt a lot, but her panic and worry for Percy overwhelmed the pain. Finally, she reached an opening in front of her.

It was massive, but looked as though someone had recently smashed himself/herself inside the "cave" the rock walls once guarded. The evidence lay on the irregular pieces of rock, some big, some small, on the floor, and the cracks on the walls beside her, as if the perpetrator had smashed his/her fist on it.

Annabeth realized one thing. The reason why she could see in the darkness was not because she had developed super eagle eyes. It was because the rocky walls were covered in precious stones- emeralds, rubies, sapphires, diamonds, etc.

She took out her dagger and got some out of the rock wall, not because she wanted to have it as her own, but as an additional weapon against the monsters. Diamonds and emeralds weren't really like Celestial Bronze and Imperial Gold, but at least they'd be able to cut through things, especially the diamonds, which were about as sharp as her mom's mind.

She crept slowly and silently towards the opening of the cave, not daring to make a sound in case whatever was inside could hear her. She crept inside, finally, judging that no monsters could remain silent for long, and gasped.

Her boyfriend was on the floor, with Celestial Bronze chains snaking around his wrist and feet. He didn't seem to hear her approach him, which was both good and bad.

"Percy," Annabeth tried shaking his shoulders, but no sound issued out of his mouth. In fact, aside from his rough breathing and rather strong pulse, like he'd been running for his life here, he looked almost dead. Like zombie dead.

She tried cutting his chains, but they seemed infused with mortal steel and Imperial Gold, (like Backbiter) which made it almost impossible for her blade to slice through. Then she remembered the diamonds with her. She took them out, but before she could use them on the chains, she heard voices behind her, and what she did was so cowardly and stupid that she should have been named the "Cowardly Lioness" of the year.

She hid against a large black rock just enough to cover her entire body, and listened.

"Smell an enemy out here, Stump?"

"Demigod boy here, nearly dead, you hit him with your teensy weensy tail. Fish ponies." (Annabeth decided this was a Cyclops.)

"What?" the Cyclops' companion demanded. "What do you mean by fish ponies?"

"I like fish ponies. Many color. Pretty fins. I want yellow hair."

"Enough about your likes and dislikes! Do you smell something?"

"Sea. Rock. Blood."

"Of course, you dummy! You smell the boy! Ah, that's a big relief. You see, my nose hasn't gotten better since that cursed god of wine squeezed it with his ridiculous grape vines! Intruders are to be e-jected, Stump! Don't forget that, Cyclops! Go continue your silly ventriloquist act! Call me when you need me, or as the mortals say 'Call me maybe.'" And with an evil maniacal laugh, he marched out of the cave, into the darkness.

Annabeth could hardly breathe. Stump's companion was none other than Thorn the manticore, who had kidnapped her several years ago.

The Cyclops named Stump was humming to himself. At last he said, in a perfect imitation of Percy's voice: "Annabeth! Help me! Please!"

She knew at once that she was right not to trust voices in Tartarus, even if they were exact replicas of the people she knew, like Percy, for instance.

She knew her plan was a suicidal one, but she had no choice. She took her ball of string out of her backpack and hoped it looked like a ball of blond hair.

Annabeth timed her act correctly. Shaking her blond hair towards Stump's face, she leapt from the rock, trying to make herself look like a pretty blond woman who didn't know how she got herself into this mess. Stump just looked at her, clearly puzzled, then reached out as if wanting to touch her hair.

"Oh no, you don't," she said to the Cyclops in a sweet but falsely dangerous, as if she were stronger than him. "Give me the boy. He belongs to me. Then you can have some of my hair."

Annabeth could tell the Cyclops was puzzled and torn between two worlds. Then, at last, he said, "Pretty hair. You can go now. No boy. He stays."

She swallowed hard. She wasn't getting anywhere. Stump must've misunderstood their deal: he frees Percy and gives him to her, hopefully silently; she gives him the "ball of blond hair" she was holding.

"No boy, no hair." Annabeth tried to sound courageous.

Stump looked like he wanted to protest, but he muttered "Pretty yellow hair. Go now with half-dead boy. Shoo shoo. Give me yellow hair." Annabeth handed him the string, thanked him a little hurriedly, and left, dragging Percy's unconscious body (unconscious boys were heavy) away from the mouth of the cave.

There was no time to lose. A hundred feet away from the cave, Annabeth heard Stump yelling "FAKE HAIR! WHITE HAIR! NO YELLOW HAIR! NO FAIR! THORN! COME QUICK! I SMELL DEMIGOD!"

She could hear the manticore running towards the cave and his angry voice, which could be heard as far as they were.

"STUMP! YOU IDIOTIC CYCLOPS! WHERE IS THE BOY? WHAT RIDICULOUS THINGS HAVE YOU BEEN DOING?"

"I was calling out for help-" "Using your voice?" "No, no, the boy's."

"A girl came, a pretty girl with pretty yellow hair. She gave me her yellow hair and took the boy away with her."

"NO! CURSE YOU, STUMP! WHEN MISTRESS FINDS OUT, I'LL BLAME IT ALL ON YOU! GUARDS! WHERE ARE YOU? FIND THEM!"

Annabeth figured she had to be quick. A horde of monsters was after them, after all.

But she couldn't carry Percy like she would a small bag.

Soon, they were surrounded by monsters, with spears aimed at them.

"Well, well, well. Annabeth Chase. Heroine of Olympus, daughter of Athena, girlfriend of Percy Jackson. My, oh my. I'm so scared of you. But the truth is, you're dead. And you know it. I've kidnapped you once; I'm not afraid to do it again. Do you see that, wine god?" he screamed somewhere above. "Do you see how hopeless you are right now? You could hardly beat me with a god in your side!"

Thorn was so busy talking to the ceiling that Annabeth seized the chance and got away, Percy finally waking up and groaning.

"Shut up, Seaweed Brain! They're after us!" He seemed to have understood.

And with that, they ran off, with Thorn just realizing where they had gone and bellowing, "AFTER THEM!"


	2. II: Annabeth

They ran away, with Annabeth tripping on rocks every once in a while, as if Nemesis was trying to balance things by tearing at her luck, and Percy swearing loudly beside her.

Annabeth cursed. She'd forgotten her backpack behind, behind the rock she had hidden in. In her backpack were things she'd brought, things that could possibly save their lives. Now it had been left behind.

After running for more than an hour, (it seemed even longer) they fell on the floor, gasping for breath. Percy was breathing hard. His face looked grayish green, as if he wanted to vomit but thought better of it. His hands were scraped up and bloody. Annabeth supposed she didn't look much better.

Mustering the strength to stand and find out what was wrong with Percy took a long time. She finally got him to stay still (he was trying to run away) and had him propped on a rock.

"What's wrong?" she asked him.

He didn't answer, but he took one look at the small space they were enclosed in and tried running away again. Annabeth stomped her foot in frustration. She couldn't understand what was going on, and that made her feel uneasy.

"Where are you going?" Her voice sounded calm and so unlike her. Percy didn't respond, but instead turned towards her with terrified eyes. Now Annabeth was really puzzled and scared. What could have scared her boyfriend here in Tartarus?

"Space-need to get out of here- RUN!" The last word was a yell, and he tried running away from Annabeth. He was frantically looking for something, trying to feel the walls and yelling "NO EXIT!" once in a while. He was truly frantic.

Annabeth finally understood. The reason why Percy disliked elevators, the attic in the Big House, also airplanes (though this might have been because of Zeus' threat to blast him out of the sky) was because he was intensely afraid of small spaces.

In short: Percy had claustrophobia, the same way Annabeth reacted when she met a spider.

Heck, she had almost killed Travis Stoll for putting a spider on her bed. So she could relate to what Percy was feeling now.

The cave they were in was smaller than the previous one, way smaller, in fact, that Annabeth and Percy (really hesitantly) had entered it because it was way too low for major monsters to enter, and besides, they were tired. It was just small enough for two demigods to camp in, but not big enough for claustrophobic people to be relieved. Maybe Percy's claustrophobia was due to Kronos swallowing his children, including Poseidon. The Sea God must have felt somewhat scared, trapped in his father's stomach for years, and his son might have inherited that phobia.

Percy was silent for moments, and Annabeth didn't dare move. She just left him like that, because she knew he was strong enough to fight the phobia itself, on his own. And they still didn't have her backpack back. She and Percy needed to rest.

"Percy, come here, please."

The moment she said that, Annabeth scolded herself. Percy had been staring at the rock wall as if he wanted to break through it, but when he heard her voice, he turned around. His eyes were no longer afraid, though they still had that same wild look earlier. She walked towards him.

"Let me see your injuries." She didn't wait for him to respond, raising her bronze dagger up for more light. She gasped.

There were claw marks on his back, possibly done by a Keres or some other horrible spirit. He was trying not to show pain, but he was either a really bad actor, or the pain was just too much. He groaned.

"N-n-nectar," he whispered, his voice shaking a bit. "Please."

She couldn't just leave him like this, in agony and yet unable to have his pain eased. She knew what she had to do.

"Stay here, Percy. My backpack's back there, and I'm going to get it. Will you be okay by yourself? No stupid Seaweed Brain moments, okay? I'm going to be right back. I promise."

He looked terrified. "No, I-I was just joking. Don't, don't go there. I don't want you there. I, uh, want you to stay. Wise Girl, just don't go there. Or I'll do a special Annabeth Chase and drag you away from there."

"Special Annabeth Chase? No, seriously, Percy, you have to let me go there. You know it's the only way we'll both survive."

"No, it's not. If you go, I'll go with you. I'm not leaving you alone again. I promised you that." And with that happy thought, he turned away.

Annabeth was trying hard not to panic. She had read something about the scratches of the Keres- slow, excruciatingly painful deaths they gave the victim, and could only be healed by a god or someone who was a really good specialist in treating wounds like that. Plus, he might have had other injuries that he refused to let Annabeth see, for fear she would have more reason to leave him alone just to get the backpack.

Annabeth knew she _had_ to get her backpack, because it could be their only hope for survival. _Rack your brains, _Annabeth thought to herself. Then suddenly, she had a totally new idea that her mother would have complimented, if it worked, anyways.

"Go to sleep now, Percy. I won't be going." Annabeth tried putting charmspeak into her words, even when she already knew only Aphrodite's kids could do that, and besides, she was a terrible convincer. She'd never succeed as a saleswoman.

"Okay," he replied, seemingly relieved. The moment he dozed off, though, Annabeth took some string that had weirdly popped out of the ground and tied Percy with it, so he couldn't escape. It probably wasn't the most escape-proof method of imprisoning someone, but it would have to do. And judging from how Percy looked, it was going to take some time before he woke up.

She left Riptide with him, pointless as it was because it would always return to its owner, (a.k.a. Percy) and she already had her dagger.

Annabeth walked into the darkness and held her bronze dagger above to have some light. She felt a little better, knowing that it was with her, knowing that her weapon had saved her life a couple of times. Still, the lack of challenges was making her uneasy. Percy wasn't with her, too. Where was spider-woman? Annabeth did not want to fight her again, but the weaver hadn't even appeared. That was odd. In the myths, Arachne hadn't been described as someone who could easily be intimidated, or, in her case, someone who quickly gave up. Once she had a plan, she would really try to execute it.

Finally, she found the cave they had run from. It looked creepy and crowded, with several monsters guarding the entrance.

Annabeth wished she had her cap of invisibility back, with its powers intact. She wasn't going to find a way into the cave without it.

Quick as thought, the object referred to in her thoughts suddenly appeared in her hand. Okay, that was really strange. Maybe Athena was helping her. Or maybe that was just her wistful thinking. Hermes was more likely to help her, or at least she thought so. Maybe even Iris.

She brought the cap closer to her eyes and found an inscription below, so tiny that she almost missed it. It was several moments before she understood the words at all. Dyslexia sometimes made her feel annoyed, especially when the situation wasn't really on the bright side.

_Hermes Delivery Service. Message from Athena: Good luck, daughter! What your heart tells you to do, do not do it quickly. You will find what you seek with the one you have abandoned._

The _one_ _you have abandoned_? Would that mean the cave, or Percy? Annabeth was feeling panicky now. What if Athena was right?

She crawled forward, ignoring the pain in her ankle, towards a medium-sized hole just a few meters away from her. She listened to the monsters discussing about something.

"Mother's not happy. We should muster our armies, hunt down Jackson and Chase. Bring them to me! I will deal with Jackson myself. Stump, you can have the girl." _Antaeus, _Annabeth thought.

"Her Ladyship has the boy already. That's one less you have to hunt for." Thorn grumbled, apparently still furious about Annabeth and Percy escaping him again.

Oh no. Annabeth's leaving Percy alone, slumbering in the darkness, had been a big mistake, on her part. Now Annabeth knew why she hadn't seen Arachne around. The spider-woman had been treacherously planning something, timing her moves perfectly.

Suddenly, the monsters became quiet. Annabeth could hear the ragged breaths of monsters. Then suddenly, Antaeus' voice whispered in a very suspicious and preying voice.

"Do you smell something, Cyclopes? Stump! Tork! Basket! Smell something?"

"Olive. I smell olive."

Annabeth felt her insides shrivel up. Of course! Her blood smelled like olives, the same way monsters smelled the sea in Percy's blood.

Thankfully, Antaeus just yelled at the Cyclopes about how they should have their noses checked, because none of the other monsters with him smelled anything. Annabeth thanked the gods and ran away.

She didn't stop until she reached the entrance of the cave. Panting heavily, she rushed inside, expecting to see Percy still sleeping and finally proving Antaeus wrong.

Instead, what she found was the now tightly chained Percy at the feet of the monster Arachne, who was smiling gruesomely at her.

"Daughter of Athena, cunning enough to try to kill me? Well, I am clever enough to kill your boyfriend here. Or throw him into an extremely small dungeon. What's better? The second one is, don't you think?" She nudged Percy using one of her legs. "Ah, let's see. If you want to try to fight me, then try. You could barely fight me last time."

"Wait." Annabeth's throat was dry. "Let me fight you. If I win, let Percy and I go."

"Oh no no, my lovely Annabeth. All I have to do is kill you. Your blasted mother didn't give me a chance to defend myself before she turned me into a spider, right? Or when she ripped my beautiful tapestries right before my own eyes. Athena will pay for that. If you do not wish to die, join us, join Mother Gaea. You will see your cursed mother pay for her crimes in here, Tartarus. Come on. No tricks, or I will surely be forced to kill you."

Percy was struggling madly, but Arachne had only eyes for Annabeth. He was bound in celestial bronze chains and spider web chains, which was pretty much an escape-proof way of imprisoning prisoners. It was brilliant, but it wasn't going to help them survive.

"You can, of course, choose to leave. But, if you do, you have sealed your boyfriend's fate! Choose!" Arachne cackled.

Her legs were shaking. Annabeth could see no way out of this.

"If you, um, just let us go, I promise my mom will turn you back into the way you were before, and admit that you're better than her, a lot better in weaving tapestries. This isn't a trick like last time. Can't you see? Gaea's not going to help your talent showcased to others. Meanwhile, at Olympus, 'goddess of weaving: Arachne' sounds so much better than 'Gaea's servant', right?"

Arachne bared her teeth at her, trying to look fierce and unforgiving, but Annabeth could see that she was unsettled. If only she could convince her…

"You really want this to happen? Oh, sure, Gaea will rise, eventually, but after that, the gods are going to be destroyed, the whole world's doomed, we're all gonna die, except for you and your monster friends. How then can the whole world be informed of your amazing talent? If you want to be a true weaver, then free us. I promise you, Arachne, future goddess of weaving, that I'll make sure you're pardoned and everything, really. If you'll only believe me, and let Percy and I go, everything will turn out so much better. Please."

Annabeth half knew her plan would fail. But half of her thought, _Why not?_

Her second plan was ridiculously similar to her first one, the one she had originally tricked Arachne into believing her, blah blah blah. But Annabeth didn't have any choice.

"You think you can trick me? Me? The best weaver of the world?" Arachne screamed at her. She shot some spider silk at Percy's face, and it shaped itself into some sort of a mask, but then Annabeth realized the silk was actually preventing him from being able to breathe properly. Soon it would choke him.

"Stop! Please, I'll do anything. Just please don't choke him." Her voice was weirdly calm, which really surprised her.

"I only have to move the silk from his face to his neck, and one pull and he's, what do you mortals call it, suckered out." Arachne was one terrifyingly and weirdly, strangely yet stupidly brilliant weaver with a poor strategic mind.

"Oh yeah? Arachne, I know you're a great weaver. So I challenge you to a weaving contest. Wanna try seeing if you could beat me?"

Arachne looked furious. "Of course I can, silly demigod. Do you think, after beating your divine mother Athena in the famous contest, after which I was transformed to this," she indicated her monstrous body, "that I should lose to you, her weak but somehow brilliant daughter?"

Percy was definitely turning purple. Any second now and his eyes would start to close forever.

"Get the silk out of his face first. Then we'll see."

"Fine, but the price of losing is watching him die slowly and painfully. Then his blood will be collected for the Earth Mother," she added after an afterthought.

"Deal. When will we start? Where?"

"Now, here, with everyone watching."


	3. III: Annabeth

"Sure. Why not? Just give me some thread. And release the web from his face. It's choking him."

Annabeth tried to sound casual, like she was talking to some friendly New Yorker wearing a casual shirt and leaning against his beat-up but still recognizable car and wearing dark shades, instead of a monstrous spider-woman who wanted to kill her for revenge.

With a twist of her leg, Arachne pulled the string off Percy's face. He gasped for breath, falling on his knees. Annabeth could see that he was trying to say something for her, and was about to object when she saw that he was trying to thank her, but couldn't find the breath to say the words.

"Bring your own materials." Arachne smiled, baring her maliciously sharp teeth at Annabeth. "Join the contest with your own things."

Annabeth had nothing to help her with their contest, only some stupid extra string that suddenly seemed inferior to Arachne's superb webbing. It was only a matter of time before her pride would be wounded. She had to do it or lose Percy to Arachne. Annabeth knew the gamble was stupid and reckless, but she didn't have any choice. Spotting her backpack near Arachne, Annabeth hand-signaled to her if she could get it, and the spider-woman merely stared at her as she went to retrieve the backpack she had left her boyfriend for.

Opening her backpack, she got the balls of string out of her backpack and gazed at them. They looked tiny and insignificant.

"But I don't have a loom," Annabeth protested. "How will you do yours? You don't have one either."

Arachne looked at her as if Annabeth was a stupid ignorant beginner in weaving. "You'll see," she said, skepticism in her voice.

Annabeth didn't see how she could weave something out of nothing, only string and some tapestry needles that suddenly seemed stupid and unlikely to save her life. She sighed and prayed to Athena.

_Mom, I'm in trouble. Percy's in trouble. We're in trouble. I don't know what to weave. Please Mom. I need to win, and it's not just because of my fatal flaw or anything. I need to survive. Percy, too. Help us, Mom. Um, if it's not too much to ask, could you give me some cardboard to work with?"_

Annabeth opened her eyes. The monstrous spider-woman was busy measuring her spider silk, muttering about how one day could use up a year's worth of silk. Annabeth groped inside her backpack, and to her surprise she found the cardboard she had been thinking of. She took her knife out of its leather sheath and began to make a cardboard loom.

She had taught herself to make cardboard looms since she was about nine or ten. Luke had watched her try to weave a pattern, and then he'd hold her hand and tell her, staring at her straight in the eye, that he was proud of his Annabeth, that she always wove pretty things. That was before he completed his quest, before he ruined everything for the campers, at least before Percy came, and before he'd turned evil.

As Annabeth set to work, she thought of Luke. Where was he now? She hoped he'd achieved Elysium. She didn't know where Thalia, Grover, and her other friends were. All she knew was that if their quest was a failure, if it was a fiasco, then the whole world would be doomed, all because of their failure. It wasn't fair, but then again, since when had life been fair for demigods like her?

She began weaving, though she wasn't sure what she was weaving. One moment she thought of a Chinese spider trap again, the next moment, she was thinking of mouse traps. How to weave mouse traps, she didn't know, and Arachne could never be fooled again using the Chinese spider trap. It was one of those one-time tricks that could never be used again, because the victim would always remember it.

The job was too difficult, like trying to find a needle in a haystack. It frustrated Annabeth to have herself stuck in this kind of situation. Children of Athena were supposed to be intelligent, wise beyond their years. Looking at what Annabeth had done so far, though, she wasn't sure if that applied to her.

She glanced at Arachne's work. The spider woman was working on something so simple and yet so enchantingly, mysteriously, and glamorously lovely. It portrayed the gods, Arachne above them, it was obvious enough. Her face looked timeless and serene, like an angel. If Annabeth didn't know who the woman was above the Olympians, she'd have thought she was someone famous, beautiful.

Arachne seemed to be able to weave with surprising skill and speed, considering she was a spider. Now Annabeth could see why she was so bitter about being a spider, a monster, cursed by Annabeth's mother herself, Athena, goddess of wisdom and strategies in battle. She could see herself in Arachne's situation, a brilliant weaver, with the lovely features of an angel, cursed by someone jealous of her work, stripped off of her angelic face, forced to weave in secret, never dying yet not truly alive. It did make Annabeth's life seem great in comparison.

She realized what she was making was useless. It was no good, after all, to try to fight the battle when you knew all hope was lost. It wasn't as if she had even stood a chance against the monstrous spider, who had even beaten Athena, with all her godly powers and super-amazing skill.

Annabeth had also seen her mother's work, and for the second time that day, she marveled at the sight of Arachne's tapestry. Then she realized that what Arachne was weaving had the gods kneeling down as if to praise Arachne. And she saw Luke, Thalia, Nico, Jason, Piper, Frank, Hazel, all lying dead on the ground. Then she saw herself, also pale and clearly bearing the marks of Death, still holding Percy's hand. Percy, who looked as if sleep was merely doing its thing, but somehow she knew that, if the tapestry were true, she'd never see those bright green eyes staring at her intently again. Of course her being dead didn't really matter; but practicalities became a little more than nonsense once love was facing them.

She felt angry. Annabeth had never wanted to see her dead body, along with many demigod's, and she wanted the weaver to pay for it. The only way to have her pay for it was to beat her in the contest, which was almost impossible. She wasn't a goddess.

Annabeth took a deep breath. She tried speaking to Gaea in her mind.

_Look, you know Arachne's going to kill us, whether or not I win. But we're more important than a monster filled with revenge, right? You haven't even collected our blood. _

Annabeth looked down at her backpack again. She had no faith that Gaea had heard her, much less answer her, but she wasn't going to let that stop her. Like, ever.

It took a long time, but finally she did weave something, a scene which she always associated with Percy. She'd rummaged inside her backpack and found some yarn, which she used, and some safety scissors that were gray and shaped like an owl's beak.

So Athena really did care for her, after all. She hadn't abandoned Annabeth. At least, not yet.

"Finished with your work, child?" Arachne's voice snapped Annabeth out of her reverie. "It took you an amazingly long time to finish it. Show it to me."

Annabeth hesitated before showing it to her. The spider narrowed her tiny, milk like eyes. "This is nothing. I win," she said, sounding like a child happily announcing his victory over another kid in some game.

"Really?" Annabeth's confidence was crumbling now, her throat burning with thirst, so parched.

She waited for an answer, but the spider just loomed over her. At last she turned her tapestry towards Annabeth. Annabeth couldn't help but gasp.

It was certainly the most beautiful tapestry she had ever seen. It appeared to her as if Arachne had made a few changes to it since she had last seen it. She was wearing a white and gold dress, with leather sandals on her feet and jewelry snaking her wrists and neck and shining at her ears. Bracelets, necklaces, earrings, how Arachne had woven them so intricately Annabeth had no knowledge of. Suddenly her tapestry seemed small and unimportant next to it.

The gods were on their knees, looking simply radiant but humble, except for Athena, who was looking tattered, vines and rose thorns on her hair, her simple Greek dress looking as if they'd recently been ripped apart by a monster who had very sharp nails, too sharp, in fact, that they'd been able to leave cuts on her arms and legs. Poseidon and Zeus, both swirling in their own hurricanes, seemed to look dazed, their children dead at their feet. 20 feet tall and still looking like human beings, they had the same look of people who had been drinking the whole night; reddish cheeks, goofy godly smiles that would've been enough to light up Times Square in New York, and strangely vicious teeth that glinted in the sunlight above.

Annabeth straightened up. (she had been slouching a bit) The gods only looked like that because Arachne saw what she wanted to see in immortal gods- merciless, immature, ignorant, et cetera.

"I don't think your work's all that nice, to be honest." It was Percy's voice.

Arachne turned to face at him so fast Annabeth barely had time to find her dagger and throw it on the spider, who moved away. The blade clattered to the floor.

"Son of Poseidon, Polybotes will make sure you will die painfully. Very painfully, in fact. But your time has not yet ended. Daughter of Athena, your time is up. Now." She lunged at Annabeth.

ADHD was what kept Annabeth alive. She rolled away, grabbing Percy's hand. Then they sprinted into the darkness.

Annabeth didn't feel anything at all, only a strange emptiness. She was not going to die. Percy was gripping her hand like it was a life cord, so tightly that he must have stopped the circulation in her hand, but she didn't care. All she cared about was getting themselves out of this.

She glanced back and felt puzzled. The spider-woman wasn't there. She was probably lurking somewhere, until she realized that her prayer had been answered. Arachne had been chasing them, but somehow, without them realizing it, she'd vanished, not that Annabeth had wanted to have her with them and ruin their otherwise romantic moment. It made her feel strange and scared. Gaea really meant business. She had ordered Arachne away.

She knew she should have felt like celebrating, but the gloom in Tartarus was pretty infectious. It was bad enough to have a spider-woman chase after you in Hell, but to have the most powerful goddess of all time wanting to spill yours and your boyfriend's blood? That was an all time personal low, even for a demigod like her.

Percy was panting, beside her, like a dog that had been running for hours, without even stopping a bit. They'd been running for hours now, Annabeth realized. Time was different in monstrous places. A day or two had probably passed since they'd fallen from above.

"So what's the plan now, Wise Girl?" He looked pretty good for someone who had recently gotten the impact meant for two people, been scared out of his wits, gagged and nearly died from asphyxia, or oxygen deprivation.

"Find the Doors. Get to them before the monsters get to us. On the way, try to avoid getting killed."

Percy gave her a dry and sarcastic smile. "Yeah, that's great. A plan worthy of Athena."

Annabeth nudged him in the shoulder. "You idiot. I know what you're thinking. Unless you want to object?" He shrugged his shoulders indifferently, and Annabeth smiled. They'd survive, she thought. They'd make it out of this place alive. And when they'd finally done that, they were going to save the world, hand in hand.

Annabeth's thoughts proved somewhat wrong, though, about an hour later. They were trudging along the rocky ground, with her backpack slung on her shoulder and her blade clasped tightly in her hand. Percy, at her left, was holding Riptide in his hand, giving them a little light, enough for them to see where they were going.

"This way," Annabeth said, pointing to the right, when Percy stopped suddenly. He was looking around, probably trying to figure out which way was better, because two tunnels emerged right before them. Inside the tunnels, Annabeth could see nothing at all, just darkness.

"Why, may I ask, did you choose _right_?" Percy raised his eyebrow at her.

Annabeth hated being doubted, so it was with stiff calmness that she answered her boyfriend. "Hypothetically speaking, right has been defined as the better choice, because left is where a person would usually not go, due to its "wrong" nature. Right is a homonym, which means it can either mean "correct" or "the opposite of left, east", so the best we can do is follow the dictionaries and hope they're correct. And, besides," she added as Percy opened his mouth to comment about something, "Look at the left tunnel. It looks as if it's infested with monsters. You can even hear some sounds if you concentrate hard enough."

"So you're just guessing?"

"Stop talking and start listening!"

He made a face. "I don't hear anything."

"'Coz you're not making a single effort to. Come on. You asked me where we should go; I told you my answer. Now are we moving along, or will you still continue acting like a jerk?"

She knew her anger wasn't reasonable, but lack of food and exhaustion shortened her temper a lot. Percy sighed and took the lead.

"Can we, like, stop for lunch, or whatever time of the day it is?" He smiled crookedly at her.

She nodded once, and took out the little food that they had.

"You should take a little ambrosia. Or nectar. You look terrible, to be honest."

"You too, Wise Girl."

They ate the food in silence and drank the nectar, wolfing down the ambrosia squares.

"What does it taste like?" Annabeth asked her boyfriend.

He shrugged. "Blue candy this time. You?"

"Buttered popcorn, as usual."

Annabeth felt like she was doing a poor job being her boyfriend's girlfriend. It wasn't that they were polar opposites; in fact, Percy shared her thoughts about almost everything, except for the fact that hers were way deeper and intellectual, while his was usually the opposite of hers. But the ideas were still there. They'd fought many battles together, Annabeth reflected, that she could no longer count how many times each of them had saved the other's life.

"How do you know, after all this time, that I was alive?" Percy asked her suddenly, breaking through her chain of thoughts. "Really-when I woke up, all I remembered was you. And my name, of course. I didn't remember my mother, or anybody else. Just you, and my name."

Annabeth didn't need to think about it deeply. "The thing is, I wasn't really that sure. Neither was your mom. We spent hours crying, thinking about you, Seaweed Brain. I had a gut feeling that you were there, alive but hidden from us, and my hypothesis turned out to be quite true. When Jason and the others came back from their quest-"

"I know, I know," Percy interrupted her. "You knew, then, that I was alive, that there was still hope. But did you know what I've just realized? Like, just realized now?"

She nodded, her eyes boring into his, and answered. "Of course. Jason, Leo, and Piper were at the Wolf House. You were asleep in the Wolf House. Thalia was there at the Wolf House. If things had gone as planned, I could have been saved of this much trouble and be with you again, only it didn't happened. After all my searching, after everybody's continuous search for you, you were just there-so close, but you weren't meant to be woken up that time."

He was silent for a while. Annabeth reflected on everything that had happened between the two of them.

The first time she had met him, he hadn't seemed so demigod-ish. He had looked pale, and his hair was, of course, a dark mess, which wasn't a surprise, considering that he'd just fought the Minotaur of the old stories. Annabeth had taken care of him, feeling his immense power, his mysterious demigod aura. She'd known immediately that he was a son of the Big Three, but the question was, which one of the Big Three?

Then she watched him fight Clarisse and her cronies near the creek during capture-the-flag. He fought like a demon, slashing and hacking at the Ares warriors, whose great skill were considerably inferior to his. Annabeth had thought that Zeus was his father, which would have made him Athena's half-sibling, and consequently her uncle. Now she had watched as Percy stepped out of the water and immediately fell like all the power had been drained out of him. The hellhound had come and attacked him, and he had fallen to the ground, his face white with terror, as the hellhound slashed at his armor. Annabeth had seen the sickening sight of his armor being ripped into shreds and his skin starting to ooze blood, by the sight of it.

Then he had been pronounced as the son of Poseidon, and Annabeth couldn't help but feel a little resentful towards him, because of the Athena-Poseidon rivalry. But some part of her had wondered if he was better than his father, in character, perhaps. He had said that his mother was kind; maybe he was more on the kind side than on the proud one?

He'd been given a quest to lead, and together, with Grover, they set for the Underworld. Annabeth recalled the quest in almost perfect detail. They'd played Hacky Sack with one of Grover's numerous apples, gotten attacked by the Furies and enraged Medusa (and maybe her sisters) on their very first day.

They'd been in a lot together, and Annabeth had felt scared for him so many times that she couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so terrified for his life. But, she had to admit, the most desperate and heart-pounding incident that she'd never forget, in which she had really feared for his life, was when he had gotten bitten by that stupid (now dead) pit scorpion.

Annabeth, at that time, had been in her cabin, scribbling on a paper on top of her desk, which was facing the open window, things like, "Dad, okay. I'm okay, you're okay, so we're all okay" for her to practice on when she finally met her dad, when suddenly a counselor ran past the window and yelled for help. "Percy-creek-get help now!" he had yelled.

Annabeth had stood up shakily and ran as fast as she could to the creek, and found him. The sight of him had nearly made her scream in horror and fear.

He was green, turning gray, a sure sign that he was dying, slipping away from them a little at a time. She had felt panicky and scared. She hadn't even had the chance to tell him she liked him. Now he was dying.

She remembered only screaming for Chiron to come over and help, and then the danger had passed. She remembered holding his hand, the only part that had seemed like him, before he'd woken up and told them what had happened.

Up until he'd shared his story with them, Annabeth had thought that a lone pit scorpion had bitten him, maybe because he'd disturbed it, maybe because he was stupid enough to challenge it. Hearing that Luke had set the scorpion on him made her insides boil with rage. LUKE had done this. LUKE had nearly killed her crush.

"Suddenly I don't feel so hungry anymore," Percy said, interrupting her thoughts.

"Why?"

"Don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know? How can a person saying that he doesn't feel hungry anymore not know why all of a sudden he's not hungry anymore? Was that a reflex action? Or a joke? Because I don't think that's so funny."

"Whoah, Wise Girl. Slow down. Chill-ax, Annabeth," Percy said, confusion in his voice.

"Oh I don't think I need to chill, Percy! I don't even know why you're my boyfriend, how dumb and ignorant you are! I don't even know why you suck so amazingly at being a boyfriend! Maybe it's because you're a jerky son of Poseidon who sucks at being a son of Poseidon! Maybe it's better if we break up! It's loads better if we don't continue our relationship! Better for our mental health, less arguing and more loathing!"

"And by the way, your saving me from the impact that maybe would have killed us both? That was nothing. And thanks a lot, loser, for saving me even when I didn't need YOU saving me. Luke would have made a better boyfriend. Or maybe anyone else, a random guy on any random street. You ABSOLUTELY suck. Let's call this off, please. I don't want to be seen holding hands with you."

He was staring at Annabeth as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. His mouth hung slightly open in shock, and disbelief was registered in her face.

Annabeth couldn't believe it either. Something was making her say the words, but she didn't mean them, and she wanted so much to tell him it wasn't her, but she couldn't force the words out.

He blinked, then said, "Okay, then. It's over, between the two of us."

Annabeth wanted to tell him it wasn't over, that what he said was overly cliché, but she couldn't. Something was forcing her not to say the words she meant to say. Percy was maybe controlled by something which forced him to believe every single lie Annabeth was forced to utter.

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. Annabeth was supposed to comfort her boyfriend, but ever since they'd landed, she'd felt different. Cold, somehow. Indifferent. She didn't even feel an urge to check and try to heal her boyfriend's wounds, which were pretty bad. One of his multiple slashes along the face was still oozing a bit of blood.

She turned and ran, away from him, desiring nothing else than take back what she said, taking back the pain and hurt she had caused him.

She realized she was crying.

_I'm sorry, Percy,_ she thought through her tears. _I didn't mean to._

Hurt him? Pain him deeply? Annabeth wasn't sure what she didn't mean to do to him, just sure that she had done something to him irreparable.

She suddenly found herself controllable again, every feeling of anger and frustration against her boyfriend, _ex-boyfriend, _Annabeth had to remind herself, gone, to be replaced by shame and guilt for what she'd caused to Percy.

Annabeth sat down on a rock and cried so hard her throat felt dry. She knew crying wasn't a rational thing to do, especially when they were in Tartarus, but right now everything in her life seemed like it wasn't rational at all. She sobbed harder than ever, thinking of the way Percy's face had looked confused, stunned, and then broken. And she remembered how he had looked hard and calculating, like a statue.

_Why am I such a jerk? _She thought miserably, burying her face in her hands and letting out a howl of misery that might have been heard for miles, probably heard by every monster miles from her, but she didn't care. All she cared was that she had hurt her boyfriend, no, ex-boyfriend, badly, and she wanted so much to travel through time and stop her past self from uttering those cruel (unkind was just so mild a word) words and directing them to him, thereby breaking his spirit.

"ANNABETH?" It was Percy, Annabeth was so sure of it, so relieved to hear his voice, that she sprang up and ran towards its source, and she was about to tell him how very sorry she was, that it would never happen again, when suddenly a hand none too gently grabbed at her hair, a fist collided with her head, and she sank to the ground, in agony.

Then the world went black.

Just like that.


	4. IV: Annabeth

_It was a fine Saturday morning. Annabeth sat down on the mahogany chair that was a favorite of hers. Her dad had already left for work, so it was Annabeth's stepmom, a (pretty) woman of Asian heritage, who served her breakfast. Ham and egg. Milk and cereal. Annabeth had complained to her dad a million times about the food selection in their house, because it was originally butter and toast, which she didn't think was a good way to start the day: Fats and carbs didn't really go along with each other, that was what she thought constantly. Besides, she didn't like getting fat, because getting fat meant getting slower, and getting slower gave monsters more chances of killing you, (the demigod) which was not what she wanted._

_She picked up her fork and knife and began to chew on the food. The sun was shining brightly, the strong winds of yesterday replaced by a cool, gentle breeze which fanned her face and made her hair nicely windswept. The birds were twitting to themselves, and, as usual, Annabeth didn't have a clue on what they were talking about. Even the objects in paintings hung on the walls of her house seemed happy. Only Annabeth wasn't. In fact, what she was feeling was the complete polar opposite of happy._

_She thought of the vision she'd dreamt about three days ago. It was a dream of darkness, of oddness, and of sadness._

_The moon was obscured by thick, gray clouds that were looking suspiciously like cumulonimbus clouds, which she normally associated with bad weather and bad luck. Legend has it that Tyche had no power over luck during a rainy, stormy day, she'd read in one of her Ancient Greek history books, which she always brought along with her, prizing them far beyond the rest._

_There was a horse, all black, which made her think it was Blackjack, but it didn't look anything like Percy's friendly (and sometimes proud and boastful) horse. It had green eyes as beautiful as emeralds, and a shaggy mane that seemed messy. Then there was an owl, with gray eyes, except it wasn't just any other owl. It was The Owl, which had been haunting her dreams and following her everywhere. As she watched, far away from the two animals, The Owl suddenly swooped down on the beautiful black horse and hit it with its sharp beak, glistening scarlet in the moonlight. It wasn't an ordinary animal. It was, she realized too late, a crossbreed between an eagle and an owl._

"_Hey!" she yelled, trying to stop the bird. But she was too late. The Owl's sharp beak raked the now fragile/frail/easily damaged-looking skin of the horse, which crumpled to the ground, its back bleeding._

_She ran to help the horse, but tripped, and by raising her head a little found herself face to face with the Owl, beak inches from her face and large, intelligent gray eyes staring at her intently. She thought that those eyes looked startlingly familiar. Then she realized it was her own, her mother's, Zeus', probably._

_She heard a scream, maybe her own, but there was no time to lose. She reached the horse, which had changed into a human, wearing comfy jeans, blue sneakers, a dirty and bloody Camp Half-Blood shirt, a necklace with 4 beads. She hardly dared to look up. A terrible fear had seized her. She tried to force her eyes not to look up, but they disobeyed her, seeing a face so familiar to her._

_His lips, which had looked pinkish when he was still Annabeth's _, was now a grayish color. His hands-oh, his hands, were still his hands, though they bore unmistakable signs of cuts, bruises, and broken bones. But his eyes, still the same green eyes, those eyes that had haunted her during those hard months, those sea green eyes that had so mesmerized her, were staring up at her._

_At least he was not dead, but he was close to._

_Then he looked at her, said something she heard but didn't want to hear again, and didn't move again._

_Annabeth had woken up during the wee hours of day, in which she was as restless and intellectual as usual, but somehow perturbed. Her dad noticed it first._

"_What's the matter, Annabeth?" he asked, peering down from his newspaper to glance at her. He looked worried._

"_Nothing, Dad." Except for seeing my boyfriend die, there's nothing wrong, Dad._

_Now she stared at her stepmom. The Asian woman whom her dad had married was kind of regular-looking, but she didn't look normal now. She looked menacing, hawk-like, and mad. Annabeth had seen that look on many monsters' faces, and she didn't like it at all. But she tried to ignore it._

_Annabeth turned towards the window at her back. The sun was now partially covered by gray clouds that looked suspiciously like cumulonimbus clouds gone viral. Soon they spread rapidly across the sky, turning it gray from its original bluish color. Then suddenly, she heard a sound that made her turn around in her seat and gasp._

_The usual calm demeanor of her stepmother was now replaced by an expression of utmost horror, pain, and suffering. She clearly was in pain, and was suffering so much she probably wished to die, because mortals had a limited tolerance to pain, much lower than the average half-blood's. Annabeth thought she saw Janus, smiling, beckoning her to choose: Kill her, or leave her like that._

_Then she changed, right in front of Annabeth, into a hideous monster that looked like a crossbreed between a lion and a woman: The Sphinx._

_It was the exact Sphinx she had met in the Labyrinth. She wasn't exactly pleased to see the monster again._

_Now the monster wasn't waiting for her to start answering her numerous riddles. She pounced directly on Annabeth, slow enough to give her time to whip out her dagger and aim a stab at its chest, but fast enough that she blurred when she moved. _

_Annabeth tried and tried to sink the blade home, but the Sphinx was incredibly fast for so big a monster. It snarled at her, "DIE, SWEETHEART!" and pounced again at her, her claws raking Annabeth's jeans and leaving slash marks on them. _

_She couldn't understand why and how her stepmother had turned from a fully normal woman to a bloodthirsty Sphinx intent on killing her within seconds. Then something grabbed her in the arm, making her scream._

_The Sphinx had managed to grab her, twisting her arm so that she couldn't run away and she screamed even harder, tears streaming down her face as she tried to fight off the monster that was pulling at her arm, strangling her, keeping her from running at the door. One furry paw covered her mouth, and Annabeth knew she was out of options._

_Then, miraculously, she heard the sound of her dad's car. Strange. He'd only left half an hour ago, so why was he here? It was too early for him to be home, but too late for him to be here to pick up whatever he had forgotten to bring with him to work. She heard her dad's steady, heavy footsteps, and she smiled. She wasn't out of options, at least, not yet._

_Then her smile turned into an expression of horror. Her dad needn't die for her. Nobody needed to. She had to stop him, protect him from his monstrous wife._

_The Sphinx, seconds from ripping Annabeth's throat out, hesitated. Then she, just as Annabeth brought her dagger down its chest, changed into the woman it originally was. It transformed into her stepmother, quick enough for Annabeth's dad to see her. But Annabeth couldn't stop the blade from sinking into her stepmother's chest. Her stepmom fell, blood blossoming from her chest, her face white with fear, but with an expression similar to a dying monster: exact revenge on the demigod who killed me, she seemed to say silently._

_Her dad was breathing heavily and rushed towards them just as her stepmom fell, catching her before she could hit the ground. He tried to find a pulse, but couldn't, staring at his dead wife, not believing her death. Then he turned towards Annabeth, his eyes looking shattered and angry._

"_Annabeth," her father said slowly. "WHY DID YOU DO THIS?"_

_He looked like an angry bull who had just found out that the cow he had dated had died, if animals behaved like humans. Annabeth couldn't answer him, couldn't meet his eyes. And she couldn't just explain it to him. To Matthew and Bobby. She just couldn't. It was part of being a demigod. _

"_I'm sorry, Dad," she whispered as she sped out of the house, sobbing silent tears that no one would wipe off her cheek._

_Once outside, she snatched the only drachma she had with her and made an Iris-Message, using her dad's garden hose and a prism she always carried with her. The connection was still poor, though, but it was okay._

"_Chiron of Camp Half-Blood," she said to the Iris-Message through her tears._

_The kindly centaur whom Annabeth had always regarded as her father appeared. He looked older, and his face was much more lined, but his eyes still had that funny look, like he didn't belong in this century but didn't care. He looked up from his game of poker and gave a loud yell._

"_ANNABETH! What's wrong?" he asked her gently._

"_I-I-"_

"_It's all right, my dear. What happened?"_

"_killed my stepmother-"_

"_What?" He looked puzzled._

"_I," she took a deep calming breath and tried to force out the words, "killed my stepmother."_

Then Annabeth woke up.

Her forehead was throbbing. She felt her forehead, which sported a large bump, oozing a little blood, but not from the impact of the fist that had caused it to appear. No, it was due to the multiple cuts surrounding it, like a star surrounded by planets, or planets surrounded by its many moons.

She was sweating buckets. Annabeth raised a shaking hand to brush her hair away from her forehead when she realized where she was.

She was in a cell that had no bars. Strange. It wasn't like Gaea was underestimating her, though. She picked up a pebble near her and threw it against the invisible wall. It caught on fire instantly, then free-fell to the ground.

So the cell was protected by a killing electric force field that could possibly make her hair stand up and kill her by sizzling her.

If this was what was her cell was like, she hated to think about what Percy's was. Then she froze.

Percy probably didn't want to talk to her. Possibly hated her. The words that had escaped out of her lips were so heart-breaking and painful that she didn't know if he would ever forgive her again. _But it wasn't me_, she tried to tell herself. The thing that stirred inside her and made her utter those unforgivable words was something that she had read about, and seen. It was an eidolon, she was almost sure of it.

Last time she had seen an eidolon, it was when one had possessed her friends on board the Argo II. Leo, Jason, and oh, gods, Percy, didn't seem to be able to fight them off until Piper charmspoke the eidolons and forced them to stay away. Now, without Piper's charmspeaking ability to help her, she wasn't sure what to do.

The ceiling was too high for her to reach, even when she tried to tiptoe. She didn't give up, though. Nothing was too hard for her to do now.

A loud, rattling noise made her stop.

She looked around wildly. The cages around her weren't empty, she realized. Someone was moving in one of the cages. Someone who could very well be her Percy.

Craning her neck, she looked and looked, and suddenly she was ten years old again, perusing her copy of _The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes._ _You see, but you do not observe, _was what the famous character said. Sometimes, Annabeth had liked to think that Holmes was a half-sibling of hers, and his brother, too. They both had gray eyes, were tall, intelligent and constantly vigilant, traits of an Athena child.

She saw a monster, bound to the wall of a cage, which was making all the noise.

Her heart sank. She was expecting Percy, all right, but she didn't see any of his bright green eyes or his dark hair anywhere, except for the cages, the monster, and a faintly bright lamp above the cage which held the monster. As Annabeth looked at it, its eyes looked at her, but they looked like cat's eyes, yellowish in the dim light, haunting and cold. She looked away.

She knew she should probably feel happy about Percy not yet being captured, but she ached at the thought of his broken face, of his probable loneliness. She knew, from her years of studying, that Tartarus was a place of horrors. How on earth was Percy supposed to survive without her being at his side?

The door at the side of the walls surrounding the cages suddenly opened, and out stepped a huge monster which Annabeth didn't have a name for. It said, in an abnormally loud voice, "WHIP HIM!" And Annabeth heard the said whip hit its target, heard the cry of the prisoner. "BRING HIM IN, YOU FOOL!" The monster roared.

The prisoner was a boy with bright green eyes, looking broken and pained, dark hair, messy as usual, and wearing jeans and a tattered orange T-shirt that Annabeth guessed had once said "CAMP HALF-BLOOD." The boy dropped to the ground, trembling from pain or fear or anger, she wasn't sure. All she was sure of was that she knew this boy, but she couldn't place a name. His face was hidden from her by the darkness.

His voice confirmed who he was. "NO! I'LL KILL YOU!"

Annabeth's heart broke into two. It was Percy, all right, and she had hoped for the worst.

A hideous monster with green and scaly skin appeared, brandishing a whip on one hand, and a heavy-looking club on the other. Annabeth heard the leader say, "WHIP HIM!" and her heart sank further and broke into quarters. She could no longer feel her body. She found herself leaping up and kicking away from the walls, and landing on both feet, legs crouched, outside the walls, without making so much noise. It surprised her, but then again her life was one surprise after the other. She saw the whip, a sharp and lethal-looking object, brandished by its owner; hit the ground, exactly where Percy had been lying a second ago. She knew instantly that her boyfriend had rolled out of the way just in time, and she silently thanked his fast reflexes.

Then the worst happened. The large monster whom Annabeth had taken for as the leader charged towards him, and he-he was too weak to be able to do more than roll away from danger. He couldn't get up, and he watched Annabeth through the corners of his eyes, finally realizing the truth, and he stared right at the oncoming monster that was about to kill him with his own sword.

She was only aware of her legs and feet working fast, and the sword, plus the whip, which had left the ground, meet her leg and face. Then she was swimming in darkness, only faintly aware of a small whimper, which she later realized was her own. And then the blackness swallowed her, and she knew that all hope was gone.


	5. V: Jason

So far, Jason didn't feel much like a leader.

A leader ought to make sure none of his crew was lost or gone or dead. He ought to be comforting the rest of the seven, encouraging them to move on and find the Doors. But here Jason was, sitting on a chair in his room and staring at the wall like a dead man, thinking about how and what he had done wrong.

His cousin and niece had fallen into the pits of Tartarus. Jason could never forgive himself for that grave mistake.

What had he been doing, when they were hanging on for dear life? He had been securing the stupid statue of Athena, which Annabeth had probably given her sweat and (possibly) sanity just to procure it. Jason didn't know what he wanted to do anymore.

Hazel's half-brother might have escaped from there, but he knew that Nico, a nearly thirteen year old son of Hades, could have lost his life there, and that he had almost been relieved when Ephialtes and Otis had found him and locked him up in a bronze jar. Jason could only imagine what horrors Percy and Annabeth might be facing.

There came Percy Jackson. When they had met, Jason hadn't been sure of what he could have made of the son of Poseidon. But he had been sure of one thing, though. He would prove himself worthier of praise than the Hero of Olympus.

Jason and Frank had secured the Athena Parthenos and placed it in a safe place, which was the open deck. Leo had summoned tools from his trusty tool belt and worked on a roof and walls to protect it from the heavy rains and windy nights. Then everybody had stood back and watched as, slowly, the walls and roof were built. Then Leo had stepped back, not grinning, not cracking his usual corny jokes, evidences of despair and hopelessness. When he turned his back towards them, Jason noticed it was hunched.

Everyone else was feeling extra-sad, especially Coach Hedge. It _was _his job to see to it that nobody was in mortal danger or anything, since he was the protector. But Percy and Annabeth had fallen towards Tartarus under his watch, which probably made him feel guilty and irresponsible. Jason didn't blame him. Everyone in the Argo II felt the same.

He got up and lay down on his bed. Thinking hard, he finally concluded that Percy Jackson was a lot better than him. He didn't even think he could do that, hanging to his girlfriend like that, never letting go, and willing to face the consequences of death, like not being able to enjoy life, etc. etc.

He stared at the ceiling of his room. The paintings reminded him of the few good times he had with Piper and Leo. He couldn't imagine celebrating now.

He wondered how Piper was doing. His girlfriend might be tough, but sometimes tears just came in the way and made you give yourself away. He knew she was in tears, or close to. Annabeth had been close to her, in a way that suggested more than gossip and laughter plus pink lipsticks and nail polish.

Hazel was another thing. She didn't really know Percy that well, but he'd been (aside from Frank, of course) her only friend at Camp Jupiter. Jason knew she had to be grieving, because there was (Jason tried not to think about it) only a slim chance that, (Jason tried to think positive, even when deep down, he felt completely hopeless) when Percy and Annabeth came out of Tartarus, they'd be the same again. Maybe Hazel was afraid of seeing Percy's eyes looking broken, like Nico's, and like something inside him had been shattered, and could never be repaired, ever.

Leo, was, well, Leo. Jason knew that among the others, Leo should have been the least affected, because he hadn't been that close with Annabeth and he'd only just recently met Percy. (and their first face-to-face meeting hadn't gone well at all) But, as soon as he had finished building the walls and roof around the statue, he had gone straight to his room, not bothering to slam his door, like he usually did, to annoy people, and left Coach Hedge to the wheel, something he would have normally refused to do. Jason knew he had to talk to Leo and ask him what he thought was wrong.

Nico was one thing, though. The kid clearly had been through a lot of near-death situations, like getting stuck in a bronze jar for days, captured by the twin giants Ephialtes and Otis, etc. It was clear that, if nobody helped him, he was going to crack because of all the pressure. No thirteen year old could withstand that much.

Frank, Jason knew, was an entirely different case. The big guy had once amused and entertained them all when he was having difficulty removing the Chinese finger trap from his fingers, and he knew that Frank liked Hazel, who probably did or did not return his feelings for her. He knew Frank was having an especially hard time, with one of his best friends gone and Leo trying to make a move on his girl.

A sudden crash drove Jason out of his thoughts. He shot up straight in his bed, whirled around, and walked out of his room, running faster as he approached the site of the crash.

Hedge was sprawled on the floor, cursing under his breath, while Frank yelled his apologies to anyone who would listen. It turned out that Frank, not looking at anyone, had accidentally bumped into Hedge, when he was making his way towards his room. The satyr got to his feet, grumbling about the sons of Mars and their clumsiness. Frank looked at Jason and the others, who had undoubtedly followed Jason as he made his way towards Hedge and himself, merely grimaced in a _I didn't mean to _sort of way. Jason offered him a smile, feeling his face muscles work rather unwillingly.

"I'm hungry," he heard Leo say. Spinning around to face him, Jason thought he looked rather ill, his face devoid of emotion. But, seeing that everyone was looking at him, he rearranged his face into what must have been a difficult smile. "You hungry? Personally, I feel like I could eat an elephant. No offense to you, Frank."

Forcing out their laughs, they all murmured their _yes_'s. He gestured for them to sit down on the chairs waiting to be sat on, and hurried into the kitchen, unnecessarily wiping his face twice or thrice. Jason and the others just sat down, staring at the others, until Nico broke the silence by clearing his throat.

"Guys, I know the odds of surviving are really notnot in Percy's and Annabeth's favor, but-"

It seemed the atmosphere had turned icy. Nico broke off, saying, rather nervously, since all of them were looking at him, "I don't like to say it, but it's true-"

Jason got up. "So all those 'they're still alive' and 'Percy is the most powerful demigod I've ever met. No offense to you guys. If anyone can survive Tartarus, he can, especially with Annabeth at his side' was a lie? You told us all those, Nico di Angelo, and I don't care if you've just been rescued from a bronze jar, or if you lost your sister to some worthless giant, or if you've nearly gone insane in Tartarus, or anything at all, you'll have us to answer to about all your unforgivable lies. What else have you been hiding from us?"

"Jason!" It was Hazel. "Leave him alone, you haven't even given him the chance to speak for himself…"

"No!" he shouted. "He's had his say. Let me have mine." And, without waiting for Hazel to reply, he yelled at Nico. "Why didn't you try to pull Percy and Annabeth up, Nico? Didn't want to fall with them, right?"

"JASON! STOP IT!" Hazel screamed at him.

But a reckless rage had come over Jason. He couldn't seem to be able to rid himself of the cold, angry feeling in him. He couldn't calm down.

"It's useless reasoning with you, Nico. And I'm not leaving you out of this, Hazel! I don't care if you two are siblings; it's our cousins I'm worried about! I doubt," he said, pausing for breath, "that Nico even cares about what'll happen to them."

"It's not like that." Hazel's eyes were filling with tears. The others didn't comment. They seemed to be unable to give them their comments. Nico looked furious.

"So you're thinking I'm a...a fake? That I'm acting?" he asked Jason, his voice slightly trembling due to anger.

Jason didn't feel any sympathy for him. The kid didn't deserve any.

"Yes, I suppose I do."

Nico roared, pulling out his Stygian Iron sword and placing the tip of it just under Jason's chin, or meaning to. Jason had whipped out his sword, held it, and thrust it towards Nico's head, a hit he narrowly missed by ducking.

"Jason!" It was Piper this time. "What are you doing?"

But Nico held his ground. "You want some, Grace?"

"Bring it on, devil!"

Nico yelled something that Jason didn't quite catch. It sounded like, "Dead-rise-to me!" but he wasn't really sure.

Immediately the air turned cold, and dark figures wearing dark clothing and carrying rifles seemed to rise out of the wooden floor. The army of the dead.

Jason wasn't about to let Nico's pathetic army beat him up. As one of the dead moved towards him, he yelled a curse, bringing it down with lightning, which had blasted the roof of the dining table off and hit the dead soldier squarely in the chest, making it dissolve into dust.

He tried hard to disguise his panting, not wanting Nico to think he was weak. One strike, and he was down? He certainly wasn't that drained yet. Nico started towards him, but Jason yelled another curse that made lightning appear and strike Nico. He crumpled to the ground, the sight of his unconscious body making Jason feel oddly satisfied and pleased with himself. The army of the dead vanished in puffs of smoke, seeing as their master was no longer in control.

Then the other demigods were bearing down on them, some rushing to Nico's aid, some restraining Jason, stopping him from going after the little brat and finish him off.

"PRAETOR JASON! I NEVER BELIEVED YOU'D DO THIS!"

Hazel, her face streaked with tears, yelled at him accusingly. He brushed off Piper's hand on his shoulder and straightened, looking at Hazel, a head shorter than he was.

"Oh, really?" he growled.

Then his fury broke. He stomped out of the room, and was met by Leo's now-smiling face.

"Hey man-" he began, then broke off as he caught sight of Jason's face. "What's wrong? You look ready to kill." He looked apprehensive as he said it. Jason realized he was slightly smoking. Plus, he knew his eyes were hard, cold and calculating at the moment, exactly what he felt.

"Leo, get away from me if you don't want your precious Argo II in ruins," he said, quite forcibly calm. Leo's face was confused. Clearly, he was surprised at Jason's suddenly rough behavior. And, he was afraid of Jason ruining his beloved Greek trireme, which he had worked so hard to make over the months. Plus, he wasn't sure if Jason was good as his word, which he was, anyways, but nobody seemed to realize it at the moment. Leo backed away, one eyebrow lifted.

As soon as he was out of Leo's sight, Jason broke into a run. He had only just reached the ship's sickbay and entered its restroom when he retched, none too quietly, on the sink. Seeing his own vomit and smelling it nearly made him faint. His head was pounding, and his hands were shaking, not from anger, Jason realized, but from fear.

He looked up and saw his own gaunt face, unlike the face he had seen in the mirror just a mere fortnight ago, staring back at him in the mirror. His blue eyes now had a hard, blazing look about them, something he had already known about, but still terrified him all the same. His face and lips were quite bloodless. He couldn't handle it anymore. There was only one way to beat the sickness out of his body-exercise.

Running up and down the ship's multiple staircases gave him a lot of time to think. After a long time, he sat down on one of the steps, thinking about his erratic behavior back in the dining room, which now had a damaged roof and an injured demigod to deal with.

He buried his head with his hands. What had happened to him? The emotions he'd been feeling in that cold, unfriendly room didn't belong to him, but he couldn't fight back. He didn't know what was happening with him. All he wanted was to have it stop.

It had been a considerably long time since he'd thought of his cousin, Percy. He felt guilty. Here he was, picking fights with his other cousins, giving them more trouble to deal with, and destroying the roof and injuring Nico di Angelo.

_But Nico deserved what he got,_ a snide voice in his head told him.

_There you go again. You got me into trouble, so get out of my mind!_ Jason's other "voices" in his head told the snide one.

_What I told you was true. Now, Jason Grace, do you want to stick with your friends and suffer the consequences or join my army and be its commander? Sticking with your friends will only involve you in many sticky situations which you will very nearly always not be able to wriggle yourself out of. Why choose a future for the gods, who will never recognize you and your friends as heroes? Leave your cousin and niece to me. They will be safe and sound if you will be able to persuade your friends to stop looking for them and stop trying to save them. _

_But, but…_Jason's many voices replied to it.

_Your friends are coming this way. Do not worry; I did not charm them into hating you. _

_Do not worry?_ Jason's mental voices were yelling at the snide one in disbelief. How could he not help being worried at his friends hating him?

But the snide voice only laughed at him, and it was in vain that he called out, "Hey! Hey! What do you mean?"

Then he heard the footsteps. A girl's, surely.

The door behind Jason opened, and closed just as quickly. Jason tried to tell the intruder, "No, get out," but soft hands covered his mouth, and gently forced his chin upwards.

It was Piper.

"What's wrong with you, Jason? Why are you covered in sweat and- is this vomit?"

Jason started to object to her being there with him, but forgot that her hands were still covering his mouth. He tugged on them, and she released her hold on him, rubbing her wrists and looking at Jason as though she couldn't believe that he'd hurt her like this. He felt guilt emanating from somewhere in his chest.

"What do you want, Piper?" Thankfully, his voice had stopped being rough. He didn't want to snap out at his girlfriend like he had with Nico and Hazel.

She took a step back. "I want to talk to you. About what happened earlier."

"What?"

She launched herself into conversation, speaking very fast. "Well, obviously, I know you're upset about Percy and Annabeth falling into Tartarus, but Jason, we all are. I think-and the others agree with me-that you were a bit too mean towards Nico, and that you probably lashed out on him not because you felt that it was his fault, but because you wanted to blame someone, vent out your feelings about their disappearance on someone whom you could blame, because it hurt too much to hold it inside you."

Jason felt more enraged than ever in his life. "So you've been talking about me behind my back, right? Talking about the little liar I am?"

Her eyes, which had been dry a moment ago, now glistened. "I-I didn't mean that, Jason!" she cried.

"Well, obviously you do, because you just said it." He turned back and saw her positively crying, clearly confused and hurt. Her tears seemed to act as a trigger to him. He yelled, feeling his self-control break.

"SO YOU'RE CRYING NOW 'CAUSE YOU WANT ME TO PUT AN AROUND YOUR SHOULDER AND COMFORT YOU? DO GIRLS EVER DO MORE THAN CRY? I'M TIRED OF ALL OF YOU! WHY DON'T YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE?"

"Jason, you're not yourself-"

"SO YOU THINK I'M POSSESSED-"

"No! I-I never said that, Jason-"

"AND YOU PROBABLY THINK I'M NO GOOD FOR YOU! YOU MIGHT AS WELL DUMP ME AND FIND ANOTHER BOYFRIEND! HOW ABOUT PERCY? I KNOW YOU THINK HE'S HANDSOME, AND I'D LIKE TO SEE YOU BREAK ANNABETH'S HEART, YOU GOOD-FOR-NOTHING GIRLFRIEND!"

That struck Piper dumb. Silent tears were falling from her face now, and there was no comforting her anymore, no repairing the damage which had been done. He jumped up and left, closing the door. As he ran away from everything, before he closed the door, he heard a dry sob and a sniffle, but he did not release his hold on the doorknob, and he did not look back.

He slammed the door of his own bedroom, locked the door, and ran to his bed, where he fell back and gazed at the ceiling, littered with imaginary stars.

Then the voice spoke to him again. _Ah, yes, Jason Grace. I believe I have had you convinced now. See your girlfriend, how she has betrayed you? I suggest you join me, for in here; you will not perish, but will live forever. See how this is better for you, than end up losing your life on some quest we all know will fail, eventually? I suggest you think about your choices and reflect on your life._

_Think about your future. The girl betrayed you, and Hazel and Nico are worthless demigods. You are the mightiest demigod ever, your powers surpassing that of even Percy Jackson. Come to me, in Epirus. I have told my guards to allow you to pass without a fight, but if you come with your friends-ah, I shall, let me say this simply, not let all of you pass unscathed._

Jason didn't answer.

_Look at my army, _and a vision of a huge army, bigger than any of the crew aboard the Argo II had ever anticipated, and more fearless, spreading more fear than feeling it, appeared in Jason's mind. _We have monsters which the demigods in Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter will never be able to hope to defeat. Join us, Jason Grace, and I tell you, you will not regret this choice._

_See this, what will happen should you not join me. _And a vision, made of Mist, formed right in front of Jason's very eyes.

The world was in fire, its atmosphere stormy, as if it was fighting itself. Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase, with wild looks on their faces, emerged from the Doors of Death, killing monsters like hellhounds and dracaena, but more just kept on coming. Then a roar made them turn around.

Jason saw himself fighting Porphyrion, king of the giants, and Percy and Annabeth rushed to help him, but found their way barred by Enceladus and Polybotes, whom they fought. Percy easily defeated Polybotes, and went to help Jason defeat Porphyrion.

As they were fighting, Annabeth cried out in pain, and Jason risked a glance over his shoulder. She was sprawled on the ground, clutching her leg in obvious agony. He had to help her.

But Percy was quicker than he. He ran straight for Annabeth just as Enceladus lowered his spear, as if in slow motion, towards Annabeth's chest, and she closed her eyes, thinking of it as the end of her life.

Jason had forgotten Porphyrion. The giant thrust his spear towards Percy, who jumped and rode it as it plunged its sharp tip into a sharp, black rock just beside Annabeth, and fell of it, his grip slackening, landing hard on Annabeth, who gave a muffled _OW! _And the spear found its home in his body.

_You see, Jason Grace? This will happen. Percy Jackson will die. Annabeth Chase will also die. You will die, more painfully, in fact, than the son of Poseidon. But you can avoid this all, if you join me. Joining me will mean immortality, and greatness. You will be given the gift of enchanting unwary maidens with your voice, quite like Apollo through his lyre, dazzling beauty, a worthy competitor of Aphrodite you will be, though male, of course. Your hands will be able to craft anything they wish to, though they will not be gnarled and dirty like Hephaestus'. You will have Athena's intelligence, Hermes' cunningness, Poseidon's sea powers, Hades' necromancy, Ares' knowledge of war, and skill, Zeus' command of the skies, among many others. These, all, will be given to you, Jason Grace. Do you not desire to be better than Percy Jackson? Do you not want your friends to be bowing down to you? Leave your friends alone, and I promise you that not a single hair of theirs will be touched, assuming, of course, that you still care for them, if you join me. Is this not better than the wretched life the gods have condemned you to?_

Jason felt light-headed. He knew he was about to give up.

_You will be known throughout history as the hero who conquered the gods, and cast them into Tartarus! I shall welcome you as my great-grandson, my pride and joy! And perhaps I shall let you rule the world, while I sleep._

A vision of himself sitting on a throne of diamond and gold, wearing a string of dazzling gems for a crown and royal clothing, looking ageless and perfect, tempted him so badly he wanted to say yes, but knew he couldn't.

_All I ask, _the voice continued, _is that you swear loyalty to me. Repeat this, if you are willing._

_I, Jason Grace, worthy son of Jupiter-_

"I, Jason Grace, worthy son of Jupiter-"

_Swear loyalty to Mother Gaea, mother of the twelve Titans, mother of the twelve Giants born to oppose the Olympians, wife of Ouranos, wife of Tartarus, wife of Typhon, born from Chaos, and solemnly swear to serve her forever more, and to bring about the destruction of the Olympians, obeying everything Mother Gaea commands me. _

"Swear loyalty to Mother Gaea, mother of the twelve Titans, mother of the twelve Giants born to oppose the Olympians, wife of Ouranos, wife of Tartarus, wife of Typhon, born from Chaos, and solemnly swear to serve her forever more, and to bring about the destruction of the Olympians, obeying everything Mother Gaea commands me."

_This oath is more binding than the one of the River Styx. And, beware; I shall know if your loyalty to me is waning. Now, someone has just been discharged from my realm to go and get you out of that blasted trireme. There will be many tests, to see if you truly know your great-grandmother, before you will be able to join me. _

Jason couldn't believe what he had just done. He hadn't wanted to say the words, but something inside him forced him to say it. Now he was bound to the Earth Goddess.

He wondered who would pick him up. Then a bright, white light momentarily struck him blind.

When the light cleared, he saw a young man, wearing a white toga, inside a golden chariot fit for just the two of them. It was Dakota.

"What-what are you-" Jason stammered.

Dakota just smiled. "Come with me."

He got on board, and as they were preparing to leave, the door of his bedroom flew open, and he found himself staring at Piper McLean.

For one second, he debated whether to chuck something at her, or just leave quietly. Apparently, Dakota seemed to be thinking of doing the second thing. He pressed a button, and Jason's room vanished, the chariot being dragged into nothingness.


	6. VI: Jason

Jason was confused.

Dakota had dumped him in an island and vanished, along with the chariot, along with all the little hope he had had. He couldn't remember everything that had happened, but what he did remember that his head had hit something, and he had blacked out. So now he had come around, his head pounding, and he looked around wildly. He didn't seem to be in any immediate danger, which was a huge relief.

He had absolutely no idea of how he was going to get out of the island. Looking around, he spotted banana and coconut trees, which made him think that he was in somewhere in the tropics. As far as Jason knew, bananas and coconuts didn't normally grow anywhere in the U.S. and Europe.

He tried to communicate with Gaea. But all he managed to do was close his eyes and faint.

When he had returned to consciousness, he tried again to talk to Gaea. This time, he heard maniacal laughter and a low mumbling in his head, both of which he couldn't explain. His mental voice yelled at it, trying to catch its attention, but he might have been yelling at Chiron's boom box to stop playing Frank Sinatra music for all the good it did.

It was hopeless. Jason got up and sat down on a rock, greatly discouraged.

Then an idea – a reckless one – struck him. He still had his sword somewhere, and, craning his neck to look for it, Jason spotted it lying innocently on a branch above his head. Its odd position suggested that he had tumbled out of the sky to the ground. This sudden realization made his head throb even more.

He climbed the tree, his hands sweaty and shaking a bit as he gripped one branch after the other, until finally he reached the sword. Grabbing it, he let himself fall to the ground, his knees bent, and as his feet hit the ground, Jason felt no new pain emanate from the impact with the ground, but felt dizzy and nauseated from the pain in his head.

_Great, _he thought. _Just what I needed. More pain._

He waited for a few moments. The pain in his head receded a bit, and now left him able to think clearly.

The best way to get Gaea's attention was to do something risky. But would it work?

_Gaea,_ he called again. _I'm going to kill myself. Surely you wouldn't allow Death to capture your most faithful servant?_ He raised his sword, preparing to slash his wrist.

_Stop. _

It was only one word, said without any emotion, but Jason could tell that Gaea had been panicking. He placed his sword on the ground.

_Okay, okay. Tell me why you've brought me here._

_Ingenious idea, threatening to kill yourself to capture my attention. All right, I shall tell you. Your little Roman centurion friend wasn't supposed to be the one who was going to fetch you. I must say, I was greatly disappointed, Jason Grace. Didn't I tell you that you would have to take many tests in order for me to know if you truly know your great-grandmother?_

_Who was supposed to fetch me? _Jason wondered.

_Your friends in Tartarus. You see, they have unwittingly let themselves be captured by my forces. The centurion was just a Mistform. You see, the goddess Hecate did not want me to have you as my servant, so she sent the Mistform to fetch you and deposit you at Camp Half-Blood. But then, here I come, and I bewitched your chariot so that the Mistform would arrive at Camp Half-Blood, along with the chariot, but you would be stranded here. I wanted you to be able to test your skills here, to make me feel proud of you. Do you not want greatness? With greatness – comes great sacrifice. You must know that._

_You are my great-grandson, and I your great-grandmother. But, alas! You were deceived by that goddess, and I had no choice but place you in this island, where your tests administered by me will grow increasingly difficult. You cannot back out now, as the oath you have taken is binding, and will only break if you die._

_I will warn you of this: Your friends' fears will you have, until you pass my tests. You will suffer, but will not be able to die. All because you were disobedient, and did not wait for your friends. _

_Good-bye now, Jason. I will not speak to you again until you pass my tests._

_WAIT! _He shouted. But there was no answer. Gaea had gone.

A few minutes later found Jason striding towards what he believed was the exit: the beach. He thought of Gaea as his mistress, but somehow he disliked her way of finding out if he was worthy. He knew she ought to do it, but he preferred less pain and suffering, to be honest with himself.

The forest he was leaving was filled with trees, and Jason thought he heard a snake hiss at him, but he paid it no heed, continuing to walk towards the sandy beach he hoped would hold answers for him and be a gateway to Tartarus.

The sun was hot on his face, and he lifted a hand to wipe the sweat out of his brow. Suddenly, he heard splashing, followed by cries of a baby.

"Who are you?" he heard a man ask, but whom he was asking Jason had no idea.

He ran towards the shore. Taking refuge in boulders and bushes, he peeked out, and his heart nearly stopped.

A young woman was lying on the ground, breathing heavily, and clutching a baby to her chest. She was wearing elegant robes, but she had clearly been in stressful situations, for they were torn, and had the slightly odd look of having been locked up in a chest, clumsily folded, for a long, long time. The baby, it turned out, was the one who had cried, though it had stopped crying now, and was staring at the man who had spoken to his mother with interest.

Jason looked at the sea. A wooden chest was floating on it.

The man (carrying a fishing net and a spear) was trying to help the young woman, who was beautiful, (_nothing on Piper, _Jason thought) but had a distressed look on her face. She gave no notice at all to the man who was trying to help her up, but stared on at the sky, oblivious to whatever was happening around her.

"Madam, I am Dictys. I am here to help you."

Jason did not know how he could hear his voice so far away, but nevertheless he did not dwell on the thought, and continued to try to listen to them.

She did not reply, but continued her almost silent gaze at the sky. Only when the man attempted to take the baby away from her did she respond to him.

"Don't you dare take my baby away from me!" she screamed, looking furious. "He is mine; who are you to take him away from me?"

"As I have said, my lady, I am Dictys. Madam, I ask you, why have you arrived here in a wooden chest? And, surely you would rather have your baby fed and cared for rather than stay here forever?"

The woman sat up suddenly, all the while clutching her baby close to her chest. "I–I"

"Do you trust me?"

"I do."

She accepted the outstretched hand of the man, whose face was, now that Jason paid more attention to it, suntanned and had smile wrinkles. Jason supposed he was a fisherman or a farmer.

Jason wanted to help her. The woman was impossibly beautiful, and, though a moment ago, she could not compare to Piper, whose beauty was fairer than the night moon, she now looked positively radiant. She was a ray of sunshine among dark clouds; she was perfect.

"Who are you?" he heard Dictys ask the stranger; the woman who had captured his heart so suddenly it seemed almost unreal, as if an invisible force was making him fall in love with her to forget Piper..

"Me?"

The woman sounded shocked, as if wondering why Dictys would ask her for her name, as if she was a nobody who deserved no one. The baby was still staring at the fisherman (Jason had decided that he was one, because how many farmers carried spears and fishing nets with them?) as if determined to know his innermost secrets. The fisherman nodded, now looking genuinely confused.

Jason sped forward, and was puzzled to see that neither the fisherman nor the woman showed any surprise that he was suddenly there at their side, or rather, as close as he could get to them, because he found he could not move nearer to them.

"I am Danae," the woman said. "Daughter of Acrisius, mortal lover of Zeus, and mother of a son destined to kill his own grandfather."

Jason stood there, shell-shocked, as the woman, the baby, and the fisherman slowly vanished from sight.

"WAIT!" he shouted. But he was alone.

He took off his shoes and socks, shirt and pants, (leaving his underwear on) and swam in the sea.

A cold feeling greeted him. He liked it – the cold and the wet feeling that the sea provided him, the cleanliness it offered him. He submerged himself completely, and tried to open his eyes underwater. He managed it, not worrying at all about the risky eye infections and everything. It didn't hurt at all.

His head broke the surface of the water. Taking a deep breath, he prepared to dive again.

Without warning, a wave crashed on him, sending him spluttering and gasping to the shore. He couldn't understand why.

Taking it as a warning that the sea was off-limits to him, he pulled on his shirt, pants, and after letting his feet dry under the hot sun, pulled a sock into each foot, wore his shoes, and walked towards a tree, where he could rest under its shade.

It was several minutes before he reached the tree; his legs were oddly refusing to move any faster, and he was beginning to get thirsty, his thirst born no doubt from the heat of the sun. He wanted to drink water, but he had to get it on his own. Gaea was probably watching him to see if he was smart enough to know where water in an island would be located.

But he didn't know. He thought of the sea, but the salt in it would just make him feel thirstier.

He looked up, and found that the tree was full of ripe bananas. Climbing it almost immediately, he snatched a bunch and went down with it.

Once down, he peeled the banana and ate it, getting another one, doing the same, and gobbling it up like a maniac. He continued this until eight had been consumed by him, just realizing that the bananas he had eaten were dry. Groaning, he threw the banana peels over his shoulder and got up, stretching his hands and back.

He ventured into the forest which he had abandoned, stumbling into the place which had previously bore his sword. His sword was gone, like Gaea, like the woman, like everything else. It made Jason feel frustrated.

He spotted a branch lying on the forest floor, recently fallen, obviously meant for him to take. He took it, sharpened its tips using a sharp rock he had taken from the ground and deciding to use it as a weapon – maybe a spear, and wondered where he was to go.

Suddenly, as if the forest could read his minds, three paths appeared in front of him. One was muddy, footprints littering it and looking like an ordinary forest path. Another was snowy, and the third was cemented, which made him think that the island he was in was enchanted.

He sat down on the ground, frustrated, and ran his fingers through his hair. Why did thing have to be so complicated for him?

He noticed a large spider towards him. Jason normally wasn't afraid of spiders, but the thought of it crawling on the ground towards him almost paralyzed him, and made him hold his ground.

_You are not afraid of spiders, _he told himself. _Spiders are your friends._

But were they? The spider looked enormous to him, its great milky eyes staring at him. It was blind, but that wouldn't stop it from killing Jason.

Abandoning all pretense, Jason got up, holding his sharpened weapon, and ran for his life, sweating like crazy.

He couldn't understand why he was suddenly so afraid of spiders, why the woman, the baby, and the fisherman had disappeared, why Dakota wasn't supposed to fetch him, why Gaea wasn't speaking to him.

He realized he was back in the beach. The waves lapped the shore, and he almost welcomed the feeling of drowning, to escape this misery Gaea had placed him in, when he heard a wail.

It was nothing like he had ever heard in his short life. The wailer was someone in desperate need of help, of care, of attention. He ran towards the source of the sound.

He pushed back plants and kicked away stones. Nothing really mattered to him now. He had to get to the one in trouble _fast._

Then he saw her, and his eyes widened.

She was a woman of such striking beauty that Danae and Piper could not possibly compete with her and win. Wearing a luxurious white _peplos, _she looked more beautiful than Aphrodite, but her tear-streaked and grieving face ruined the perfect picture. She was sobbing hysterically, and, as more tears spilled from her eyes, and her voice continued to murmur a string of indistinguishable words that didn't make any sense to Jason, he understood that it was not she who had uttered the cry of pain, and yet she must have known who it was, for she was crying most pitifully, as if the person had already died.

"Miss," he said softly. He did not want to startle her. She did not mind him.

"Miss," he said more urgently. "Do you know who wailed?"

She looked at him as if he were an alien. Then she spoke, and her voice was raspy, which wasn't really surprising, considering that she had been crying so hard for so long.

"'Eraklis."

"What?"

Jason was confused. Why would the girl not be able to speak English?

"'Eraklis," she said more despairingly. And, with a rush of understanding, he finally understood why she couldn't understand him–

"Wait here for me," he said, pointing to himself and the ground, and sped off, looking for a hero's body somewhere, concealed behind the bushes…

At last he spotted a sandal, lying a few feet away from a foot, which then became a leg, then a lower body, then an abdomen, then a chest and arms–the head of the famous Hercules.

He approached the dying demigod, though he wasn't sure why. Kneeling down beside him, he searched the surroundings for any signs of danger, and looked at Hercules properly.

Jason didn't see anything wrong with him, but he was sweating and shuddering, perilous signs. His face was white as a sheet, looking as though there was no more blood in there, and he drew rattling, desperate breaths.

"Hercules?"

No answer. The demigod on his feet continued to struggle for life, until finally, he lost the struggle. The light in his eyes, which had almost disappeared when Jason had found him, went away, to be replaced by a look that Jason knew he would never forget until the day of his death, and his hands stopped shaking, his chest stopped rising, and his face drew on a ghostly look.

Jason realized that Hercules' garments were spread with something in the inside. Centaur blood.

He knelt there for what seemed like hours, completely forgetting the girl Hercules had left, until he heard a high-pitched scream.

He dashed over to where the woman was, leaving Hercules' body behind. He could not bear to look at the body of the hero who had suffered so much in his short, miserable existence, and yet had his life ended by the girl whom he loved. And he knew he must get to the woman, because she was about to do the one thing he feared she would do, because he had read about her, knew her story well, for that was something he learned with Piper…

He reached her just as she fell to the ground, hand holding Jason's sword, her blood staining the front of Jason's shirt, but he did not care – she had to be alive, not dead, she couldn't just be –

She took rattling breaths, her pulse was quickening, and she lifted her head a bit, just enough for Jason to see her face, peaceful and no longer despairing.

" Erhomeh, 'Eraklis," she whispered. And she died.

Jason continued to hold her, even when her heart had stopped beating, for eternity. Then at last, when he could not bear to look at the wound in her chest that had extinguished her breaths, he stood up.

This day was full of tragedy and losses. He couldn't help the people he had tried to help; they had vanished or died before he could. It hurt to know that he could have saved the girl from dying, if he didn't leave her alone and go looking for the dying demigod who was beyond his help. If only he'd listened to his instincts–

He turned away, wanting to run away and leave everything behind. Then cries of despair made him turn to the source of the sound, against his better judgment. It was as if something was controlling him, making him do things he didn't want to do.

He couldn't fight back. His legs carried him to the source of the noise.

A young woman was sitting on the ground, weeping most pitifully, the ground beside wet with her tears. She didn't look up as Jason approached her.

"Madam," he began, but she looked at him straight in the eye.

"Theseus left me," she said mournfully.

"Theseus? But he was – oh!"

Jason understood immediately why he was there, and where he was.

This was an island which Gaea had created. In it, Jason experienced confusion, when the woman, the baby, and the fisherman slowly vanished from sight. And, when Hercules had died, he had felt guilty. He hadn't helped the dying demigod, even when his life thread was being prepared to be cut by the Fates, and he'd just stood by and watched as the Fates finished what they had been working on.

But the woman – Jason somehow knew her – Deianira, beautiful wife of Hercules, who had been tricked into killing her own husband by the crafty centaur named Nessus, and who had been so filled with guilt at what she had done that she had killed herself. He felt nothing but pain, and regret at what he done, over her death. If only he hadn't left her, if only he hadn't gone to look for Hercules, she wouldn't have succeeded in killing herself – anyways, the demigod was dying whether or not Jason was there.

There it was again. The feeling of indifference. Jason was horrified at the thought, feeling himself turn slowly into some kind of monster who cared for no one. A monster who looked like a regular human and who could kill a person and walk out for some coffee an hour later. He didn't want to turn into that. And he didn't like coffee.

_Gaea, _Jason called to her in his mind. _I know what you've done. You've made this island specifically enchanted, so that any demigod hero who stumbles across this island gets to relieve the pain and suffering the greatest heroes of all time felt, like Hercules and Perseus, and Danae, Ariadne, and Deianira. You wanted me to feel scared of the spiders, to have the sea rebel against me, and to make me feel desperate. You wanted to have my abilities tested, and my weak spots challenged. _

Jason felt stunned. He hadn't expected himself to think that, furiously, at Gaea. But somehow the thing inside him seemed dormant, and suddenly active, then dormant again. When he thought of that, he had felt like himself again.

_Of course. You are clever, Jason Grace, not unlike your own half-sister. Because of that, I award you. I never meant you to come here, but it was your own stubbornness and disobedience that brought you here. I did not wish for you to be brought here, but disobedience has its ways of eventually punishing you. I believe the Indians called it "karma." You will shortly be fetched from here, and I have hidden this island from any other god or goddess who might interfere. You shall wait there for your friends._

Jason wasn't really listening. From being angry a few seconds ago, he had turned somehow obedient. His mind was working hard to fight his _other _mind, the one that was being possessed by something not truly human, yet not truly monstrous. _Yes, my lady. Karma came from the Indians. Percy and Annabeth will fetch me. I will wait._

_Correct. _Gaea's mental voice sounded pleased.

Jason sat down on a log, looking for any signs of change in the surroundings. The leaves fell down on him like it was autumn, but that was impossible, since this was a tropical island. Then again, with magic, almost everything _is_ possible.

Then the wind blew hard on Jason's face. The leaves were swept away with it, leaving nothing on the ground. Then a bright light made Jason's eyes burn, and he had to turn away.

A tall, dark-haired teenage guy was standing on a golden chariot emblazoned with strange symbols, with a fair-haired girl beside him, both in chains, but still able to move. Jason got up, then realized that they were staring at him. If looks could kill, Jason doubted that he would still be alive.

"_What were you thinking –" _Percy hissed, but blood immediately began pouring from a cut on his lip that Jason was sure hadn't been there a moment ago. Jason realized he wasn't allowed to be criticizing Jason like that. Because Jason was the big guy. And Percy was just some random demigod sacrifice.

Annabeth glared at him resentfully. Then she suddenly put her face in her hands, or tried to. She was bound in chains, maybe not from head-to-toe, but she was bound. Tightly.

Percy didn't look at him as he spoke. "Hop in."

The part of Jason that wasn't possessed wondered whether they were angry at him because he left the Argo II, joined Gaea, or simply because he turned traitor and no longer deserved to be called a demigod. He didn't say anything at all, just hopped in and stared at his feet.

The chariot turned, and wobbled, and disappeared. And not for the first time in that day, he felt his lungs compress, and his knees turn to jelly. Then the blackness made him blink; he had been so used to the bright daylight in the island, and the bright lights in his cabin. _No, _he told himself. _I am not going back there ever again._

A monster immediately greeted them. It had a mouth, and eyes, but otherwise it looked completely monstrous.

"Sthene, Mrien, guard these two demigods." And he turned to Jason and smiled.

"And you, Jason Grace. Here are your chains. You're ready to begin being the Earth Mother's servant."


	7. VII : Jason

Jason's eyes flew open.

He was lying on his bed; in his bedroom in the Greek trireme Leo had (so unexpectedly) named the Argo II. He looked around, and didn't understand at all why he was still there, when he had been in Tartarus. He felt confused, didn't know anything, and wanted badly to know what was going on. But answers didn't come to him naturally, because they were always meant to be found.

The door in his bedroom banged open. He sat up in his bed, saw Piper, and gave a huge start,

"Hey," she said, as casually as a calm person could sound like. "What's up?"

"You're – you're not mad at me, are you?" he asked her.

"No, I'm not," she said nonchalantly, as if it were every day that her boyfriend asked her if she was mad at him. "Why?"

"Then – why –"

"Jason, calm down," she said. There was a hint of confusion and desperation for the answer in her voice. Instantly, he felt his face smoothen out, and his whole body feeling calm. "Why, what's wrong?" She sat down on his mattress.

"I had a dream," Jason muttered, "a bad one."

"Looks like it," she said. "What happened in your dream? Tell me. Oh, gods," she added, "didn't realize I was charmspeaking you. Continue."

He told her his story, and by the time he had finished with it, her eyes widened, but then they became smaller as she raised her eyebrows. "Well, that obviously isn't true, because Hazel and Nico aren't mad at you, and you haven't yelled at me yet, plus you haven't been anywhere. I've checked on you about a million times already, but you've been sleeping on your bed every time I popped in."

"Um, why did you come in when I was asleep?"

Strangely, Piper blushed, but Jason chose not to ask her why she did.

"I was about to wake you up."

"So what were all you guys doing, while I was asleep?"

"Well, you left, after you and Frank put the Athena Parthenos in the open deck, and Leo had finished building the walls, which by the way are still standing, and we were all staring at each other and trying hard not to cry. Well, at least Hazel and I were. The boys just sat down, jaws clenched, until I broke the silence."

"I told them we should be strong and, you know, continue the quest for them. For Percy and Annabeth," she finished. "And it seemed as I'd chosen the perfect words. Hedge announced that he was going to get a crossbow and shoot arrows into the sea, and he mentioned that he was hoping to catch a shark and bring it onboard for all of us to see." She rolled her eyes. "And Leo's like, 'I feel like I wanna save the poor sharks out there', and we crack up, even when it was probably the lamest joke he'd ever made. 'Better cook some food for us,' he said, before vanishing into the kitchen. 'Oh, yeah, wait, Piper, no need to worry about pigs getting slaughtered and cows being abused, 'coz Team Leo's got all the tofu you want.' Trust Leo to get rid of the stormy clouds and replace it with a nice, twinkling star."

"Stars don't twinkle," Jason pointed out to her.

Piper made a face at him, but her expression turned serious. "Are you serious about what's happened to Percy and Annabeth? Do you really think they were captured?"

"I'm not sure, actually. Let's just cross our fingers and hope for the best. And, we should always think positive," he said, just as his stomach gave a loud rumble.

"Dinner?" he asked hopefully.

"Nah, you missed it. I'll have Leo make you a hotdog sandwich. Come to think of it, maybe I'll do it."

He got up, and so did she. As they made their way towards the door, Jason hesitated.

"Pipes," he said, reaching out for her shoulder and placing his hand on it, "don't worry about Percy and Annabeth. They're going to be alright."

"I know," she said, turning slowly to face him. "But I don't know about us."

Everything, or maybe everything, was back to normal when they got into the dining room, with its big wooden table and chairs that seemed too small for the table. The first person Jason saw was Frank. The big guy didn't look scared. He looked fearless, and determined, which was a huge relief. Jason didn't feel like comforting people right now, especially someone who looked as physically threatening as Frank did. Hazel was sitting beside him, and their hands were outstretched towards each other, but the fingers not touching. Jason wondered if they meant it to be that way, if the space between their fingers was Leo. He knew enough about their relationship to note that Leo was seriously complicating both of their feelings towards each others.

Nico was sleeping, Hedge was looking sulky, and Leo – Leo was smiling crookedly at them. Jason realized that he'd been holding hands with Piper all the time, and that he was smiling, in spite of what had happened, and what he had witnessed in his stupid dream.

"Stupid dummy," Hedge muttered. "Didn't stay alive long enough for me to enjoy it."

"'Yo, Coach, the dummy was never alive to begin with. So stop moaning about the apparently short lives of dummies, okay? We've got a meeting." Leo smiled.

"What's with the happy mood?" Jason asked, before he could stop himself. The words rushed out of his mouth. "I thought we were supposed to be- ow!"

Piper had elbowed him in the ribs painfully, but the damage had already been done. Immediately the light in Leo's eyes faded a little, Hedge grunted, Frank and Hazel looked around, guilt in their faces. But Nico was still asleep. Leo looked a little disgruntled, and probably guilty, but his smile looked genuine.

"Aaah, Jason has had too much energy injected into his veins because of his _very _long sleep."

"Leo, it's 'Jason has been revitalized too much by his really long nap'. You make it sound like he's been asleep for as long as Sleeping Beauty was. And incidentally, why do people always say, 'inject into your veins?' I mean, you could say blood vessels or arteries or – " She broke off. "Why are you guys staring at me like that? Oh, right, Annabeth's talk, sorry."

"Piper, no offense, but _inject_ sounds cooler than _revitalize_."

"I wasn't – " Piper began, annoyance clear in her voice.

"Guys," Nico interrupted. All of them looked wildly for Cyclopes who could be imitating Nico's voice. He smiled. "I was just going to say that I thought you guys should be discussing about the more important things now, rather than fighting among yourselves."

Jason felt like he was being called to be a leader. Since Percy wasn't here, naturally, it ought to be him?

"Okay, guys," he said, then raised his voice. "We have to face the fact that Percy and Annabeth aren't with us right now. They're in Tartarus, fighting for their lives, and we're here, trying to complete the mission given to us. Go to Epirus. Close the Doors of Death. Rescue Percy and Annabeth. That's what we all will do, will accomplish. Now who's ready to, er, roll?"

"I am!" Hedge stood up. "You, Grace, you're the leader? Awesome. I want to make sure that you're gonna make sure that we'll blow up Roman ships and kill the eagles!"

Frank looked worried. "But I can transform into an eagle. You're going to kill me too, if I'm in eagle form?"

The satyr waved him off. "Not you, kid. Mars would roast me alive if I did. Now, shut up, and what, now, Valdez?"

Leo stood up, too. He was taller than Hedge by about half a foot, which made him standing up to say something rather more impressive than Hedge standing up. "Ok, Coach, just want to say something. Sit down, coach. Seriously. On your chair. Swear nothing will happen."

Hedge sat down, and he was engulfed in a black smoke that stuck into the skin separating his nose and mouth, and when the smoke cleared, and they were able to see him, he was now sporting a brilliant mustache, complete with the scruffy beard and everything. But, unlike Hercules, who had looked handsome even with the scruffy beard, he was startlingly not handsome. He looked comical, like some guy had put a fake mustache and stupid-looking Harry Potter/Hagrid-style beard that looked definitely fake. Plus, in his hands was a purple-and-pink purse that seemed too girlish for the coach to even consider touching.

All of them cracked up; and they laughed and laughed, even Nico, who had to be tired enough to want to curl up into a ball and sleep, laughed along with them. The stupid joke wasn't really that funny, but Jason laughed anyways. Leo laughed the hardest.

"Can't believe you'd fall for that trick again, Hedge. I call it Leo's manly makeover. 100% discount." He laughed again.

"Not funny, Valdez. I'll get even with you, eventually."

"Okay, okay, let's work on the problem. Jason, you were saying?"

"Oh," Jason said, momentarily forgetting what he was about to say. "Er, guys, we had better reach Epirus in less than a month, or Gaea will rise. That's it," he finished lamely.

Everyone turned to him. "Yes," they whispered. But it didn't sound like whispering at all. It sounded like they wanted to hiss at him, but thought better of it.

Then they changed form, and Piper, who was nearest him, who was still holding his hand, lunged for his throat, and he went down.

"Any last words?" asked the she-demon that had formerly been his girlfriend.

"Piper – Piper McLean," Jason croaked out. The she-demon paused, and she slashed at his throat.

_Jason, Jason…_

A voice called out to him, despairingly and heart-wrenchingly familiar. But Jason was lost in his own thoughts, in his own unconsciousness.

_Wake up, wake up, Jason; please, wake up._

_I do want to wake up, _thought Jason, _but I can't. I'm too tired. I want to sleep._

He did want to sleep, if sleep was loosely defined as unconsciously floating in a pond of his thoughts. Jason's mental head felt heavy as he tried to rise out of the pond of thoughts he had created, but the pond refused to yield to him. It tried to catch him back, forming water manacles on his wrists and legs, the liquid solidifying into ice, the cold making him involuntarily shudder. It was as if a force was giving power over the pond to hold him there, or someone was giving order to the pond, but how could it obey the commander? Then a sleeping woman's face appeared in front of him, and he recognized her, with a stab of revulsion.

"Gaea," he said, his voice sounding calm to himself.

_Of course, my little hero. Have you not forgotten our pact?_

"What pact?" he demanded. "That pact wasn't made. It wasn't true. Nothing in that stupid dream was true."

_Oh, it was in your head, but that does not mean that it did not happen. Your friends think you are theirs. In reality, you are mine, Jason Grace, whether you like it or not. You swore a binding oath. Or have you forgotten already?_

"No," Jason told her. "I haven't. But that oath's fake. It didn't happen. It was all in a dream. This is a dream, too."

Gaea laughed softly. It was weird, laughing with her eyes closed, but Jason already knew that nearly everything in his life was sort of weird. At least, he thought of it as weird, like having a dad who scared people away from Jason but didn't contact Jason ever, in his whole life. Jason supposed Jupiter might have been busy, but he was still bitter about the Lord of the Gods ignoring him. He was sympathizing with his sister now, he realized.

His sister. Oh, gods. When she found out about what happened –he didn't even want to think of what she would do when, eventually, she found out.

_You will never escape from me, Jason Grace. Never._

Now Jason was suddenly choking. Gasping for breath, he yelled – or tried to – at Gaea. His voice was raspy and weak.

"What have I done wrong? Why are you doing this to me?"

_You deserve the pain. Now die, painfully, son of Jupiter. You are no great-grandson of mine._

"I'm sorry, Piper," Jason whispered before he succumbed to the pain and discomfort of which was known to humans as the sensation of choking.

Jason's eyes flew wide open. "Choking!" he gasped.

The person sitting on the chair probably wasn't Piper, but he/she muttered a loud, "WHHAA-?" before scrambling up and finding Jason's eyes open. "Leo?"

Leo grinned his usual impish grin, baring his slightly crooked teeth. "Ah, our very own Sleeping Handsome wakes up. Did Piper even kiss you?" His grin widened.

"What happened to me? Where's Piper?"

"Piper's – in her room. She wouldn't talk to anyone except me, just telling me to go deliver you in here. And I, naturally, was assigned to keep watch over you until you woke up, which you did just now. But I don't regret it. See? I've got a video of you drooling." He showed an electronic gadget that Jason had no name for to Jason. The Jason in the video was obviously drooling,

"I don't drool. And where did you get that – that gadget?"

"I didn't just get it. And I didn't get to be the son of Hephaestus for nothing. This is simply a phone that does not get signals, does not attract monsters to us, does not get us killed. Yeah, but no Internet. Dang, it's probably Hermy – wait, what's that god's name again?"

"Hermes."

"Oh, yeah, sorry about that, Hermes! Dang, it's still your fault. I thought you were supposed to be the god of Internet and everything. Well, at least I can connect this to a PC and post it in YouTube."

"Post it in where?"

"YouTube. Oh man, you don't know about YouTube? Think of a video library wherein you can browse and add your own Book of Monsters anytime, anywhere. Well, not anywhere. No Wireless Fidelity, no YouTube. Shame," he sighed, "Wi-Fi is so high in the sky I wouldn't be able to catch it even if I tried to."

"Wireless Faithfulness? Loyalty? Not exactly. Fidelitas. Fidelis. Pietas. All Latin words."

"No Latin, no problems. Seriously, you are really complicating things. YouTube? Dude, you're serious about that? Oh yeah?" Leo added, though Jason hadn't contradicted him. "You have a Google account or –"

"Leo, stop. Seriously. STOP. Where's Piper?"

"In her room? Duh?"

"Is she skulking inside it or something? And don't try to be sarcastic towards me."

"I'm not being sarcastic. And what-in-Tartarus does skulking mean?

"Hiding, more likely. Why am I in my bedroom, by the way?"

"You fell, Piper tried to shake you awake but failed, Frank and Hazel were holding hands, Hedge tried to convince Piper that a whack in the head with the bat would probably be beneficial for you, but Piper talked, sorry, _charmspoke _him out of it, and I got assigned to be your sidekick and protector while you're unconscious and possibly dying. Ha-ha, joking," he added hastily. "What do you really remember?" His tone was suddenly serious.

A girlish scream prevented Jason from answering. He cocked his head to one side. He hadn't realized that he'd sat up on his bed. "Did you hear that?"

"Sure I did." Leo didn't look remotely relaxed now. On the contrary – he looked extremely nervous, which was really _not_ Regular Leo at all. "Okay, Captain," he smirked a little, or tried to. "What's the plan now?"

"Fight the bad guys off? It sounds like Piper's in trouble. Or maybe Hazel," he added, as an afterthought, fighting to get the anxiety out of his voice.

"So let's go crazy crazy crazy 'til we see the sun. I know you – "

"Leo, stop it. It's not helping me. Besides, I'm seeing an unexpected visitor somewhere in here."

"Okay, okay."

"Go to the door quietly," Jason instructed Leo, his voice low and calm, just as he'd tried to make it sound like. His mind was steady and sure, working like a perfectly oiled machine. "I'll be right behind you."

If Jason's words confused him, Leo didn't show it. He went to the door, quiet as a cat approaching a mouse. Jason joined him, and the two of them pressed their ears to the door to try to hear what was going on.

"Can't hear anything," he muttered to Leo. "Going to go out. Be right back."

Leo nodded. "I've got your back. I mean, I've got your back sort of overly cliché response to this kind of situation, right?" He gestured helplessly to himself, all the while speaking in whispers. Jason abruptly realized that he had been whispering to Leo without noticing the definite drop in volume.

"Stay back. Hide yourself. I'm going to open the door."

Jason waited while Leo picked a hiding place that would most likely hide him away from whatever dangers the others and now Jason might possibly be facing. "Here it goes," he muttered. And he stepped out of the room.

The hall was quiet. No sounds of arguments did Jason hear and nothing he witnessed bore signs of attack. Still, it was always safe to constantly be vigilant. The place looked unusually tidy, no occasional bits of trash in it, (no doubt wrappers thrown carelessly by Leo) no weapons dropped, nothing at all. At least, until he got nearer and nearer towards the dining room. He turned on the light.

The floor was covered in blood. Dark, red blood that was slowly turning the floor slippery and dangerous for the casual observer and bystander to walk on. He spotted a bronze object glinting under the table, and crawling to get it, he recognized it as Piper's dagger, Katoptris. He felt his heart crawl into his throat. He wanted to see his girlfriend and be assured that she was all right, that the blood on the floor wasn't hers. Then he felt guilty, because if it wasn't hers, then it might be Hazel's, Frank's, Nico's, or even Hedge's.

He examined the floor, a part of which was in shambles. His dormant _Sherlock Holmes _ instincts, training, and ideas kicked in. He'd found Piper's dagger under the table, which meant that either it was knocked out of her grasp and fell under the table, or it was here as a bait for Jason. Or worse, the blood on the floor was hers from fighting.

Monsters. Jason thought that the Argo II's celestial bronze and deadly weapons were enough to keep them away, because Leo told all of them about it. But something told him now Leo was wrong.

The ruined floor, the blood, Piper's dagger and she screaming, and the odd silence explained it all to Jason. Something was definitely wrong.

He stopped by Hedge's room. The satyr wasn't there. In fact, none of them were in their rooms. Jason felt quite anxious for all of them, so anxious, in fact, that he didn't quite notice the sound of the footsteps behind him, and suddenly he was grabbed by the neck and thrown, headfirst, into the floor, by the intruder. His head immediately hurt, and he felt himself slip away.

"I hope Leo's not stupid," Jason managed to whisper, before darkness whisked him away.

A loud noise woke Jason up.

He tried to get up, but something yanked at his ankles and wrists, forcing him to sit down again. It was too dark to see them properly, but Jason knew what they were. Chains.

He tried to tug on them, but it was no use. His demigod strength was no match for the heavy and powerful celestial bronze (or maybe Imperial gold) chains. Jason wondered about how he was captured, and where he was.

"Jason?"

Oh no. He knew that voice. He'd been hoping that he wouldn't get to hear that voice, because it would have meant that _she _had been captured. But now his worst fears were confirmed.

"Jason, it's me!"

"Who?" he asked, not sure at all if it was all a dream or he was going crazy, (hopefully not) or if it was a trick.

"Piper." She sounded as if she were trying hard not to say, "Duh!"

Jason turned himself slowly to look at her. She really was there, and she looked as radiant and stunning as ever.

Once he got over her beauty, though, he could see that she had numerous scratches and bruises bizarrely decorating her face, arms, and legs, as if she'd been fighting and fallen off the stairs. Her face, when he focused more properly, looked a little tired, but maybe she was trying to hide her exhaustion from him so that he wouldn't worry. Sometimes Jason's girlfriend acted _too_ tough.

"You alright?" he asked her.

Out of the darkness, he could see her face go up and down. It was a moment before he realized that she was nodding at him.

"Oh," was all he said. Then a sudden thought made him speak again.

"Where are we?"

"Still in the ship," she answered nervously, but what she was nervous and scared of, Jason didn't know, and didn't really want to. "They've taken Frank and Hazel away," she whispered suddenly. Her eyes, Jason saw, by the dim light, were filling with tears. "But I don't know where Hedge and Nico are. I wish they're alright!" She stared at the ground like it had taken Frank and Hazel away.

Jason reached out his hand and tried to put a hand on her shoulder, but the chains on his wrist prevented him from doing so. They were far enough that even his rather long arms weren't long enough to reach her, without standing, even without the chains. But Piper was still staring daggers at the ground, too preoccupied to even notice his struggles with the chain.

"Piper," he said gently. It was amazing how she could ignore the rattling of his chains, no matter how loud they were, and not be able to ignore him calling out her name. "Piper, it's not your fault."

She glanced at him with (though Jason wasn't really sure, what with the dim light and all) a tearstained face and despairing expression. "It was my fault. I was conscious when they took me. I could have fought away, charmspoke my idiot capturer, stabbed him, whatever. But, no. I didn't do anything at all, just watch at the spot where Frank and Hazel vanished. Then they banged my head on the wall, and I passed out. The next thing I know, you're in here, with that great ugly gash on your head. The noise you heard – which made you wake up, sorry – was me kicking at the walls, with my chain rattling and the walls, which are probably either metal or cement or whatever, I don't care, I don't know, making an eerie sound."

She spoke so dejectedly, her voice filled with self-hate, that Jason wanted so badly to wrap her arms around her and tell her _Don't worry; everything's gonna be alright_, but he knew that would be saying an obvious lie, and Piper was actually pretty good in knowing when Jason lied to her. But what she said made him touch his head. It felt sticky, with blood, Jason thought, _with my blood_.

He had to smile, despite their situation. "Do you know how many times I've been knocked out this week?"

A tiny smile appeared on her face. "A gazillion times?"

Just then, Jason heard a door open, and someone, no, _something_, came in. It was a Cyclops.

"Who is Yay-son?" the monster's booming voice asked.

Piper and Jason both froze, looking at each other in trepidation and fear.

"NO-ONE?" roared the monster. "YAY-SON NOT HERE?"

Jason almost exhaled with relief. Was the monster going to leave them after all?

"Knock Yay-son," the monster mumbled. "Two Yay-son. Very nice ekersize for Cyclops. Wee, muscles!"

Jason understood in a flash, but he was too late. The monster's fist suddenly hit Piper on the forehead, and she crumpled to the ground, lying motionless as a rag doll. He only had time to try to escape to Piper's side before the monster's fist collided with his head, and he fell, feeling the chains snap and arms carrying him and Piper.

Jason was still conscious; he reached out a hand and grasped Piper's hand in his; the corners of her mouth twitched, as if she were about to smile, then his eyelids closed, dragging him away from the sight of his girlfriend and into the black pit of Unconsciousness.


	8. VIII : Jason

**SORRY FOR LATE UPDATE GUYS! I THOUGHT I'D POSTED THIS BUT I HADN'T...hope you'll all forgive me! And I spy the new prophecy! **

**Spoiler alert: things may not be what they seem.**

Jason was sitting Indian-style with Piper, having an unlikely picnic in the outskirts of the woods of Camp Half-Blood.

Piper was laughing at some joke he'd just cracked, something about a stupid Roman soldier and his even more idiotic horse named Buffoon. He laughed along with her. It felt so natural, almost as if they had no troubles at all. Almost.

Leo had told them earlier that the Argo II wasn't ready to set sail for Camp Jupiter for about a month. _That _was what he had said a month ago, and Jason was secretly afraid that, based on this, they'd never be able to reach Camp Jupiter in time. And he wanted to be back in his home turf, where he'd grown up, where he couldn't walk around without someone saying, "Good morning, Praetor Grace" or "Good afternoon, Praetor" every time he so much as walked a street. Not that he wanted the attention. It was uncomfortable, yes, and he didn't really want to be in that kind of everyday-life-as-a-Praetor life. He wanted to see the Twelfth Legion Fulminata, with its citizens and centurions, festivities and activities, and (not really) Reyna.

Jason hadn't really thought of his relationship with his co-Praetor. Of course, praetors tended to date and icky stuff Jason and probably other boys wanted to avoid talking about, but he'd never considered her more than a colleague, someone with whom to work with. He did, of course, admire her for her courage and strong nerves, but that was it. He didn't feel romantically attracted to her, but he wasn't saying that she wasn't pretty. Just that...she wasn't really his type. But he liked her for who she was, as a friend, maybe, as a Roman praetor, maybe, in terms of romance, probably not. Jason was rather inexperienced in the field of Love, and he found it uncomfortable to talk about Reyna in front of Piper at all, because Piper's face would harden (to stone) and she'd close her eyes, whether in anger or annoyance at Jason he didn't know, and he didn't want to upset his girlfriend, so the subject wasn't really brought up between the two of them.

Piper snapped him out of his reverie by clicking her fingers in front of his face. He was so stunned by this that he had taken his golden sword and whirled around for enemies to attack, then realized they were alone. He glanced at Piper, and saw that she was…shocked? Scared?

Then she laughed, and the knot of worry inside Jason unknotted at once. "Looking for an enemy to attack?" she asked playfully, jabbing him in the ribs. "I'm here, armed and ready for you." She smiled.

Jason couldn't explain his actions. He whirled around, and the next moment, he had Piper pinned under him, the tip of his sword placed just below her chin. She swallowed hard.

"Jason – "

Whatever she was about to say, she didn't get to say it at all. Her multicolor eyes turned milky white, and she gasped. When she said something, her voice sounded different, hard as the earth she was lying on.

"Jason Grace," she said, "Death is awaiting you."

Their positions changed as Jason was thrown sideways, the pain of the impact making him roll to his back. Piper took his sword and placed the tip of it on his Adam's apple. He swallowed, feeling the ball in his throat move up and down, the sword cutting into his skin and drawing out blood.

"Piper –"

"Any last words, Grace?"

"You're Gaea," he whispered, and she smiled, a hideously brilliant smile, before the sword moved to the left side of his chest and met its target, and he felt Death tugging at him, bringing him to his own realm. And he was weightless.

Jason woke up, cold sweat on his face. He could tell he had been shaking.

His head was aching badly. He put a hand on his forehead, and felt a large lump on it, which, obviously, was new. He looked around, feeling his head throb painfully and trying to, but failing extravagantly, to ignore it.

Leo was sitting on a bench, looking down at him. He looked a little worried (or distracted!), a faint crease between his eyebrows as if he was thinking of something, but when he caught sight of Jason stirring and opening his eyes, his face smoothened out and he smiled his usual manic smile.

"How's it feeling, Superman?"

"Why do I always hit my head?" he groaned, again feeling the lump on his forehead and wondering why he was so unlucky.

"Bad luck?" Leo suggested. "You might want to buy some lucky charms. Wait, or worship that…who was that again?" He screwed up his face in mock concentration. "Oh, right, tie-a-key! Pray to her, buddy, and tell me if your bad luck improves. Or you could just tell your daddy to zap people who hit you and annoy you, excluding me, with lightning!" He grinned at Jason again.

"Leo, I am seriously getting of this bed and – "  
"You can't! Look, you're tired, injured, and angry. It just isn't a good combination. You mix soda, pepper, and salt. It's no good combining them, because they aren't meant to be!" He ruined his totally reasonable argument by saying, "Speaking of soda, does anyone have a Coke? I could seriously drink one now!"

"No, I do not have a Coke, and what do you mean by tie-a-key? You mean Fortuna? Or Tyche, if you must?"

"I am seriously in need of a sugar boost. Do you have hard candy?" he inquired, totally ignoring Jason's question.

"Do I look like someone who – ow!"

His forehead hurt terribly, which made him yell, and caused Leo to jump from his seat.

"Oh yeah," he said to Jason, a little guiltily, "I was supposed to give you this when you woke up." He passed a canteen of nectar to him, which Jason gladly took.

Jason drank it all at once, and tasted hot chocolate, feeling the pain in his forehead lessen into a dull throb. He wanted to smack his lips, the thing Americans usually did when they finished drinking some delicious, but he decided against it. That would just give Leo another reason to tease him and annoy him even more.

"Look, man, you alright?" Leo asked.

"Okay, forgive me for asking me, but why are you in here with me again? Did Hedge send you here to annoy me when I woke up? Where's Piper?"

"Whoah, slow down there, Grace. Okay, you hit – well, the monster or whatever thing that was – hit your head, and you passed out like Piper did. Frank and Hazel, Nico and Coach, and you and Piper were all tied up. I was the only one who wasn't. I followed your instructions, you know," he added with a hint of seriousness now in his voice, "hid myself. And once you didn't come back, I suspected that your brilliant plan failed, or that you got captured, whatever. So I used an Invisibility Net that was with me always and which I came up with when I shut myself in my room, just after…Annabeth and Percy fell…into…Tartarus, and crept downstairs silently. Well, the monsters who captured you all were stupid, and they were talking about capturing you and sending you to Gaea, Piper included, and to have Hazel and Nico send to Tartarus, which I really didn't get. Anyways, that Cyclops who discussed it all in very short, simple sentences that were full of grammatical errors was stupid to say it out aloud. I devised a plan that sent the monsters overboard, and Piper and the others started stirring, and yeah, pretty much everyone's back to their feet, except you."

"Well, considering that you had had your head knocked something like four times in four days, a rough estimate, I tell you, we weren't so sure that you'd be back to your feet after we fed you the ambrosia and trickled nectar down your throat. Piper was so worried, man, when she had barely opened her eyes and found you lying, unconscious, in a pool of your own blood. She forced Hedge to take care of you twenty-four seven, since he was supposed to be good in healing wounds and everything, and he would have, but it's barely been three hours since I, you know, did everything and saved all of us, and he just recently ordered Piper to bed, after she wouldn't leave your side, and begged me to switch places with him. It's not so bad, actually. I've been sitting here for, what, five minutes? And then you woke up. Man, that was awesome. I mean, it was like my presence made you wake up and everything. Natural medical aura." The corners of his mouth twitched, like he was trying to fight off a smile.

Jason felt awestruck. "You – beat down the monster army all on your own?"

"Well, not really. You see, I had once built a metallic arm that I, three hours ago, used to pick up the monsters and throw them overboard, but without Coach, seriously, I would have been – " He drew a line along his neck. Jason gulped.

"Anyways, Coach was awesome. He was like, 'You big, dirty, moronic losers! Get down to your knees and start apologizing to me! I am Gleeson Hedge, a professional coach who will beat you down into a pulp and throw you overboard,' half of what he said, I, to his great approval and thanks, did for him. Yelling insults at the distracted the stupid ugly monsters, which gave me time to pick them up, using my metallic grabber arm that was totally awesome, though now damaged beyond repair, due to the almost dead weight it carried. I mean, Cyclopes have seriously got to lose weight. Those I lifted weighed like, a ton? And the grabber arm almost snapped because of their weight, but thankfully it held on until, finally, the last monster had been thrown overboard. The end."

Leo looked at Jason expectantly. "Was that good?"

"Was that even a story? It didn't sound like one."

"Very funny, Grace. Anyways, Piper's probably asleep. I wouldn't go into her room; she gets pretty paranoid about people watching other people sleep. That's totally weird, she told me once. So just concentrate on healing, Grace?" The last sentence was almost a plea.

"Sure." Nothing to worry about, Jason wanted to add, but didn't. He lay on his bed as Leo went out, his head now feeling fine, thinking about Piper. Then a sudden thought occurred to him, and he leapt out of the bed, with the result that he crashed to the floor. Legs in agony, head suddenly on fire, and him feeling weak, he tried to lift himself up, but failed. He tried again, but his arms weren't used to the sudden force he tried to exert through them, with the result that he slumped back to the ground in exhaustion, feeling his cheek press against the cold floor of the infirmary.

He wanted to see her, alone. But he didn't want to…do something with her. He just wanted to talk to her, wanting to so badly that he took the pain gladly in exchange for a chance to talk to her. But she was sleeping, and she probably would object to him shaking her awake just to talk to her. And he also wanted her to get her beauty sleep, but at the same time, he wanted to see her. So he did the only rational thing he thought he should do. Spotting a bottle on the table next to his bed, with the letter on it, he uncorked it and drank it to the core, feeling a mixture of renewed strength and a strengthened desire to see Piper. Dragging himself to his feet, slightly unsteady on his feet, he walked slowly towards the door and turned the knob.

There was nobody out there to see him, to scold him, to dissuade him as he left the infirmary room, praying inwardly that Leo was in his bedroom, fast asleep. He didn't think he could handle Leo's sarcastic and irritating remarks about his relationship with Piper this time, with him so determined to see her. His determination might cause him to be sharp with him, something he had never been around him, except for the stupid dream he had. He crept towards the hall, towards Piper's bedroom, and pressed his ear to the keyhole. There was no sound except for Piper's soft and even breathing. He turned the knob slowly and pushed the door as quietly as he could manage.

Piper was asleep on her bed, which was covered in pillows that looked super comfortable, and the serene expression on her face as she slept was such that Jason just stood there looking at her for a while, until he remembered, and closed the door behind him as quietly as possible. Spotting a chair, he dragged it near her bed, careful not to make any noise lest she woke up, and sat on it, his hands on her bed, longing to touch hers.

He wanted to touch her hand; it reminded him of all the good memories they had shared together. The hand, he knew, never changed, no matter what, and he wanted to cling to her hand, because the Piper he knew before and the Piper he knew now were a shade different now, but her hand was still the hand he had held when they had that picnic in the outskirts of the woods of Camp Half-Blood, the hand that had caressed his face gently when they were alone, the hand that had killed monsters to defend her friends. He felt a surge of pride looking at her, knowing that she had done those, and knowing what he had done in his dream, even when it hadn't been real, he felt ashamed. Of how, in the dream, he had hurt her feelings deeply, wounded her, given her a scar that would never fade away. But he felt confused. It hadn't happened at all; it was just a dream. So why was he feeling this way?

He took her hand, caressing it as she had once done to his face, holding it as if it were the most precious thing in the world. He looked at her peaceful face, the fierce Piper whom he knew gone, replaced by this calm and sleeping one. Her face was relaxed, neither worry lines nor any signs of sadness on her face that normally appeared in her face when she was conscious.

She was so beautiful. And he was glad that he loved her, that he loved her as if his heart would burst from the love he felt; he didn't ever want to be separated from him as Percy had been from Annabeth. He didn't want to think about what he would do to the immortal deity who could do this.

He spoke without preamble. "Piper, I love you, and I will always love you, even when you might break my heart, though I know you won't, and I want you to know that. We might not survive this; all of us know this, but I want you to know this, because if I die, I wouldn't be able to tell you this, and I want you to know this: You are seriously the best girlfriend a guy could ever dream of. Anyone who has a problem with that can talk to me."

"Piper, I'm confused. Remember Percy, when Annabeth tripped? He grabbed her and wouldn't let go, even when he realized they were about to fall into Tartarus, and he loved her, I could see it, he loved her, all right, he loved her. And I love you, too. If it were me, and not Percy, and you, not Annabeth, I'd have chosen to fall with you. Because I love you, Piper. I love you like I've never loved someone before."

"I don't love Reyna. Sure, she _is_ my friend, but loving her is different. I've never had a crush on her, or been infatuated with her, but I'm not saying she's not worth loving. Because she is. Any guy would have fallen for her, except for me. I choose you over her, and I know she's probably giving you a hard time, but please, forgive her. Under that mask of praetor lies an extremely good person who's fun to be with, funny while still being serious, and everything else good. But don't get the wrong idea. I mean, she is great, but I don't love her. I have never loved her, and never will. It's only you whom I love, Piper; not her, only you." He stopped abruptly when his eyes traveled from her hand to her open eyes, which were staring at Jason, apparently surprised and…shocked? He wasn't really sure; he'd never been that good in reading people's expressions. Plus, Piper had an excellent poker face.

It was his turn to be surprised when she smiled, a gentle smile that was hers, truly hers, and whispered, "I love you, too."

The effect of hearing the words was instantaneous. Immediately, Jason could feel his rather frozen brain activate again, and he breathed in the air that now seemed wonderful to him, a great blessing from above. He whispered, "Love is a strong emotion, characterized by great feelings of attraction and affection for a person; often unrequited, but in this case, _not_."

"That's one of the many things I like about you, Jason Grace," she whispered.

He leaned towards her, whispering, "Love is a difficult but understandable emotion."

They held hands while they slept, the fair-haired boy sitting on the comfortable-looking wooden chair and the dark-haired, kaleidoscope-eyes girl lying on her pillows, looking peaceful and content, each absorbed in happy and innocent dreams depicting a young fair-haired boy holding hands with a brunette, gazing into the beautiful sunset.

"WAKEY-WAKEY!" burst in Leo, causing Jason and Piper to immediately wake up. "Oops!" he grinned, catching sight of their intertwined hands. "Gotta go!"

"Leo, what happened to knocking?" Jason asked, none too quietly. In truth, he was feeling disgruntled. He had been enjoying his dream so much; it involved him and Piper in Paris, but Jason only recognized the place because of the Eiffel Tower towering in the distance. He had never been to Paris before, but he'd seen pictures of its most famous monument: the Eiffel Tower. Now _that_ was majestic.

"I was going to, but the door just opened on its own," he grinned again. Jason arched an eyebrow at him. "Okay, fine, I pushed it. But I was expecting Piper only, no Jason Grace holding hands with her while sleeping. I wasn't expecting you to be here," he finished. "Which brings us to the obvious question, "Why are you here?"

Jason had already known that natural curiosity would not allow Leo to stop himself from asking him that, and he was prepared. "I woke up and just found myself here," he smiled, causing Leo to point at him, then at his forehead, and say, "Karma is really, really happening right now. What happened to good ole' Jason Grace whom I knew, who couldn't raise an eyebrow and yet didn't smoke pot?"

"I don't smoke pot."

"I know you don't, so you don't really need to remind me of that! Anyways, demigod meeting in an hour, at the dining room. See you, lovebirds!" he winked at Jason and Piper before leaving, taking care to close the door behind him, but not before they heard him laugh and say, in a singsong voice, "Love…ahhhhh…."

"He is so unbelievable," Piper muttered.

"I know."

After he had showered and put on fresh clothes, Jason went down, marveling slightly at the thought of Piper and Leo, both of whom hadn't told him off for getting out of bed even when he was injured. To be honest with himself, he did feel a little lightheaded now, but that could easily be resolved, he argued with himself. Getting some squares of ambrosia out of a drawer which was labeled MEDICINAL CABINET: DO NOT OPEN WITHOUT PERMISSION FROM THE SUPREME COMMANDER OF THE ARGO II, he thrust them into his mouth and tasted homemade brownies, the kind he liked and which were usually eaten at Camp Jupiter. The thought made him sad, and a little homesick. The ambrosias were, as usual, effective in removing pain and weakness and replacing them with surges of strength. He could only hope that that would always be the case.

Gulping those squares of ambrosia secretly had their disadvantages. For one thing, Jason felt a little sick and shivery now, plus he knew his body temperature had risen. But he didn't want to always be the one who was being taken care of, and besides, he wanted to attend the almost-regular demigod meetings. He wanted to know everything; and extra knowledge almost always came with a price. The price for him to pay was a burning, extremely uncomfortable feeling in his whole body, but he could handle that. He could.

He hadn't realized that his face had become quite ruddy until he bumped into Frank in the hallway. The big guy was holding a basket full of freshly laundered clothes, but they weren't many of them. Some were socks, others shirts, and still others underwear. (which Jason didn't really need to see) He took one look at Jason, and a look of total puzzlement fixed upon his face. Jason was about to ask him why he was acting like that, but Frank beat him to the question.

"Um, why is your face so…red?"

"Is it?" Jason asked him, confused.

"Um, yeah, it's so red…have you been doing a headstand?" Frank asked shyly, as if he were scared of Jason.

Jason honestly didn't know why people were usually so intimidated by his presence, or even Percy's. It wasn't as if they gave an aura that suggested aggressiveness. Percy, once you took a good look at him, looked like an ordinary teenage guy, with his friendly face and casual tone. Jason didn't look too different from him, either. At least, that had been what he'd been telling himself.

He hated being the center of attention, or even having people become afraid of him. It wasn't as if he were a monster, because he certainly did not have scaly reptilian skin, fangs, red eyes, or even a purring tone that suggested this person was not someone whom you wanted to mess with. It wasn't as if every time Jason or Percy was bullied or annoyed, they'd pray to their dads and call for lightning and water storms to be targeted towards their enemies, because Olympian gods didn't do those kinds of favors for their children very often, and the few who ever did weren't any of the Big Three at all. Jason had only contacted his dad a few times, and the few times he _had_ managed to contact him, he was either in serious danger of dying, or heading off to complete a hopelessly impossible quest, with him being the one expected to lead it.

"No," he replied, stifling a laugh as he looked into the big guy's tiny eyes. "Going to the meeting?"

"What meeting?" If possible, Frank looked even more confused.

"The demigod meeting that starts in about, I don't know, five minutes? Leo told me about it."

"Well, he didn't tell me. Okay, meet you in the – where is it?" he asked, only a hint of shyness in his tone now.

"Dining room, starts in about five minutes, remember?"

"Okay," he said, then trudged away, carrying his basket and muttering under his breath, apparently under the impression that Jason, however near he was, could not hear him.

"Leo's doing this on purpose; I can tell he's really doing this on purpose. Probably waiting for a chance to be able to talk to Hazel alone before the stupid meeting starts. Well, I won't give him a chance. I'm going to have to dump these in my room and dash off to the meeting room. Let's see if that "talk" will still be possible, ha!"

Jason could only stare at him and shake his head in disbelief.

"So, for the last time, let me ask you: Are you sure you'll do this?" Leo asked.

"For the last time, Leo, yes," Jason told him. "And might I remind you that I'm not the only one who's going to do it. We all are."

"But shouldn't we first contact camp?" Out of the demigods present, only Nico had so far remained silent. He spoke now, though, with the weakness that had been in his voice the last time Jason had heard it gone, to be replaced with a new sense of leadership.

"Yeah," Jason agreed, "contact camp. This means an Iris-message."

"Iris-oh!"

While they looked for a prism, or anything that could make a rainbow, and a hose or faucet for water, Jason stayed seated right beside Piper, where he always sat. Their bodies or hands weren't touching; they were a good twelve inches apart from each other. It was because of this that Jason had to reach his hand for hers, and when he grasped it, he spoke.

"Ready to hear the new prophecy?" he asked her gently.

"Yeah," she muttered, looking quite apprehensive as she spoke. Jason raised his eyebrows at her.

"Well, not really. But I've got no choice, have I? I mean, it's not like I can take off my ears and just put them back whenever I want to. And I wouldn't want my eardrums to burst."

"You've got a point," he admitted.

At that moment, though, Leo called for their attention by clearing his throat. (hem, hem!)

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are all gathered here to witness the extraordinary Rachel Elizabeth Dare issue another prophecy in the hopes of being able to aid us in the Quest against Gaea. Now, as we all know, Mother Earth is recruiting demigods and monsters to her side! We shall now listen to what our oracle has to say about this, about the omens she has read and the future she has foreseen!"

A shining image behind Leo showed a girl with red hair, green eyes, freckles, and a blue paintbrush tucked behind her ear. She was looking at the demigods before her with nervous anticipation.

"Any second now, guys," she warned. "I can feel it coming."

And suddenly, as if her words had acted as a trigger, she went limp, and all the campers, who had been so silent that Jason hadn't noticed them, standing before Rachel, caught her and deposited her in a chair, where green smoke billowed out of her mouth as she spoke.

_The two under shan't beat the odds_

_Without the help of twelve Olympian gods_

_Seven shall journey to the ancient land_

_Without so much as an offered pin-pointing hand_

_Fight, they will, and fall, they might_

_But if they will, the other two shan't be able to fight_

** [DON'T POST THIS IN WATTPAD!**

**Translation of prophecy: **

**So Percy and Annabeth are not gonna beat the odds – meaning they can't survive without the gods helping them, so they're certainly going to have to suck it up and pray for their godly parents to help them. (but, unfortunately, they're not going to get out in this book)**

**Piper, Jason, Leo, Frank, Hazel, Nico, and Coach will journey to Epirus, Greece, with only the helping hand of the Olympians [that will be able to direct them to their destination] guiding them. (but the Olympians have to be willing to help them; hence the "offered" helping hand)**

**They'll fight the giants, but if they fail to defeat them, then Percabeth will still be stuck in Tartarus. At least, for a little while longer. And since they'll still be stuck in Tartarus, they won't be able to fight alongside the six demigods. (and Coach!)**

(continued)

Nobody spoke for a while. Then the Iris-vision flickered and was gone.

Only one thing registered in Jason's puzzled mind.

There was going to be trouble. Plenty of it.


	9. IX: Percy

**After a MONTH of not updating, of always procrastinating, I have finally made it. I've experienced rough times while writing this chapter; heck, I'd even thought about quitting writing. But somehow, I made it 'til the end. This chapter's worth 4, 283 words. It's not much, but it's all I can give, for the meantime.**

**After wrestling for 15 minutes with the stupid charger, I almost gave up. It's like trying to save someone whom you know is already gone. It's like trying to revive a dead heart. Our laptop won't start until we charge it, and even the charger won't obey me. So I spent a quarter of an hour tinkering with it until I finally threw it away, out of frustration and hope that the shock would be enough to "restart" it. And it worked. (yipee!)**

**I'm dedicating this to BOTH Night_Beauty and Emilythegreatest, because somehow they gave me the needed encouragement to write on. And, here is the chapter you have been waiting for.**

**Enjoy; it's the first chapter in this story that's in Percy's POV. **

Even before he felt a body thump to the ground beside him, Percy already knew something was wrong, but he couldn't quite comprehend what was going on. His back was on fire, and he couldn't move a muscle.

He had caught sight of himself on a sort-of-a-mirror thing that was gross and coated with monster slime, so he wasn't entirely sure that he was right. But he had seen a black-haired someone with green eyes and a hideous-looking cut on his cheek on it, and he was pretty sure no one else besides him and the monsters were there. He looked...terrible, and the cut was bleeding profusely. But Percy didn't know what else to do, except maybe wait for it to bleed away enough blood so that he could die? The pain of the whip had been nothing, compared to the terrible loss and numb feeling that wasn't enough to numb the pain left on him by Annabeth's words.

Ex-boyfriend. Even now, Percy couldn't make himself accept that. Ex-boyfriend to Annabeth Chase, and now hated by her. But he had been staring at Annabeth's eyes while she broke up with him, and he noticed that they were glassy and unfocused, but she was mad, which was strange. And the glassy look of her eyes made him think of eidolons, though that did not stop him from being terribly hurt at Annabeth's words.

But now there was a limp figure in the monster's hands, which had ceased bringing the whip down on him. He only caught sight of the dirt-stained and messy blonde hair of the figure, and then he began to yell her name.

"Shut up!" the monster growled. "Shut up, or she'll be worse than she is."

Percy didn't care; ex-boyfriend or not, he was still going to protect her. He yelled for her until his throat hurt, until one of the monster's goons wrapped a piece of cloth around his mouth. Now his voice came out muffled, and within minutes, he was choking.

"Loosen the cloth," the chief monster growled at one of his servants. And Percy felt the cloth around his face loosen a bit, and he realized something. He had a plan. But it wasn't foolproof.

Percy scooted towards the monster as far as he could go, and then falling to the floor into what seemed like a dead faint. The beastly creature whom he took as the servant quickly secured the cords binding him on the legs, and he lay still. At last, finished, the servant went away.

Now was the time to execute Part Two of his insane, reckless plan. He gave a muffled shout of pain, and rolled on his back, gasping for breath, keeping his eyes open. The pain from the whips was faded now, faded

The unnamed monster was drawing closer to him. He had to try to break his bonds. But he realized now that his plan was failing spectacularly. But how could he escape? And the answer came to him in a sudden, remarkable strike of inspiration.

_Loosen the cloth. _Did that mean that the monster was under orders not to kill Percy or Annabeth? Now was time for Plan Two.

Percy had seen people in television act dead. He hoped his minimal viewing of dramas and people dying would help in this insane, almost-suicidal plan he was hoping to undertake.

"You there, are you alive?" The monster was talking to him. Though Percy was pretty sure he'd be able to talk, he didn't. All he did was pretend to be in pain more, praying silently to the gods (wherever they were) to help him, even once.

Percy lay still while the monster hovered over him, apparently deciding what to do with him. And what he had been waiting for happened; the monster loosened the cloth around his mouth, and snapped the chains on his legs. Thinking that he was too incapacitated, and he nearly was.

The moment he had been waiting for had come; the monster turned away from him. It was now or never.

Percy got up, wincing, but he had no time to check his injuries, which were, no doubt, probably going to leave scars, and he needed time to execute his plan carefully. He crept as silently as he could towards the monster, spying the hilt of a sword in its hand. And he gathered his strength and kicked out, towards the monster's head, feeling a savage sort of satisfaction. The sword he had spotted on its hand was suddenly on the ground at his feet, and he bent to retrieve it just as the monster rolled into its back and lunged for it, too, but his demigod reflexes and training kicked in, and he snatched it out of the monster's reach. Fortunately he was faster than the monster, but his luck was always guaranteed not to last very long. The monster's hand clamped down on his ankle, pulling it, and he stumbled and fell, his head hitting the ground with a sickening sound.

For a moment everything was black and white; even the ugly face of the monster looked stupid, and he could barely hear its voice saying, "Think you could defeat me, demigod? I am Mother's own creation, born of the seven seas and as powerful as the sun. You cannot look at me without blinding yourself, and Mother has truly given me everything I need – there is no reason for her to hold back what she knows I will need – and I need your death!"

Confusion filled Percy, and he answered the monster just as angrily as it had addressed him. "Well, whoever your mother was, she seems to be stupider than you. I can't look at you because your ugliness makes my eyes wanna rip themselves to pieces, but of course they can't, and they won't. Wait," he said suddenly, as the realization hit him. "Your mom – does she go by the name Gaea? 'Cause that woman – oh, she's bad. Not that," he amended, "you are clever enough to realize it without securing a headache later."

The monster roared, and charged at him. He rolled to the side instinctively, but the monster was suddenly quicker than him, quicker than it had been just mere minutes ago. "You do not understand! Magic and Mother herself created me; I am barely a boy – a young one, you monstrous demigod!" And he was on him, squeezing Percy's neck and holding him back as he choked.

"Monstrous? You calling me monstrous, you monster?" he choked out. His face was feeling hotter, with all the blood rushing to it. He instinctively kicked out, and he heard his sneaker connect with the monster's face, making it fall, and he took the sword he was carrying. It felt oddly and reassuringly light, like he'd carried it into battle before, which was highly unlikely. He struck the head, and it rolled away, landing barely an inch from his sneakered feet.

After that, he couldn't really remember anything. The adrenaline and heightened sense of reality had left him, and he only remembered a few things; unlocking Annabeth's cage (to which she might have been unceremoniously thrown into) and hoisting her onto his back, but eventually he supported her. He remembered only her dead weight, how she was pressing into his wounds, which he had, prior to carrying her, when fighting the monster, largely ignored. Now the pain returned in full measure; he staggered and nearly fell. Monsters were now surrounding them. He swung his sword at them, and though he was now too weak to even bat a mosquito away, if there were any in Tartarus, the tip of the blade hit the monsters' body anyways, and they disintegrated. When all the monsters were dead, he'd started running, trying really hard to ignore the pain in his back from carrying Annabeth and having her press on his wounds, and the pain that was building in his whole body; head, chest, arms and legs, everywhere. He staggered again, and this time, he fell against the ground, feeling his body give up, his lids closed, but before they did, his eyes caught sight of the blade. It was a strange bronze color, and, in the darkness, it seemed to glow. The sense of familiarity he'd felt earlier was because he had held it before. And he even had a name for it.

_Anaklusmos. _Riptide. He only had time to think the name twice, and then darkness enveloped around him and his head hit the ground as he fainted.

Percy jerked back his hand from a patch of sunlight, his hand steaming and crumbling into ashes. He was yelling at the top of his lungs, almost blind with pain. His hand had crumbled to ashes, and what remained of his lower arm was bleeding heavily. He heard laughter, and turned to see Annabeth laughing at him like he had just done something funny, instead of having had his hand disintegrate. "Silly," she said, still laughing, "a little bit of sunlight won't hurt you." She seemed not to have noticed his earlier screams.

He looked at himself, at a mirror that had suddenly popped into existence, and saw, instead of the wild-haired boy he'd come to expect, a pale white being with crimson eyes , incredibly strong looking, even when unmoving, and as he inched his hand toward the sunlight, he stared at it. It had regenerated, repaired itself. And he knew what he was.

Vampire. He opened his mouth, and immediately saw the gleaming, razor-sharp teeth that greeted him. He doubled over; feeling nauseated, and found himself staring at what appeared to be Annabeth, except that she just wasn't, couldn't be. She was dead, obviously, her throat torn and mangled. Her blond hair appeared to be streaked with what looked like her blood. As Percy lifted her, still feeling only a horrible kind of emptiness, Annabeth opened her eyes, and they were red as his. Only as she opened her mouth when she smiled did he realize what it meant.

The first thing Percy was aware of was his dreams. They wove in and out, like creatures he couldn't quite name. Some were morbidly terrifying; others were simply delightful. He felt disconnected from his body, feeling empty and hollow. He wanted it to stop. The feeling was much worse than being in pain, in some unexplainable ways. But then he heard Annabeth's voice, and he wasn't sure if he were dreaming. But it sounded so real, and so close.

"_Percy,_" said Annabeth, "_wake up_."

Eventually the dreams subsided, but Percy was so tired that he wanted to sink into oblivion and to never resurface again, but there was someone squeezing his hand; he could feel it now, and it was whispering his name. _Percy, Percy, Percy_. _Please._ And there was hope and despair together in the last word; there was joy and yet sadness in it; there was Life and Death huddled together in it. But the only thing unopposed was Love. He tried to reach into himself, tried to bring himself back, but ultimately, failed, and he gave up, sinking into despair, becoming even sadder, and feeling that he was about to die, if not now, soon.

His eyes opened and took on his unfamiliar surroundings. Then he caught sight of blond hair and gray eyes staring at him worriedly.

"Annabeth?" His voice was barely a whisper. He reached out, but his arms were like lead. He couldn't, though he wanted to. "Annabeth, is that you?"

She didn't reply, but instead extended her arms to him and hugged him fiercely. He knew she was crying. "I – I thought you would never wake up – there wasn't any ambrosia left – I – I –"

Percy smiled faintly. Even that simple act made him feel tired. He looked around and bumped his forehead, not too hard, though, on the rock he was propped against. He groaned, placing a hand on top of his forehead, but found that there were hands on it already, slim, long and familiar hands.

"Are you hurt?" asked Annabeth frantically. "Are you okay?" she asked again, her hands fluttering around him, probably looking for the ambrosia and nectar that might not be there. He sighed, which made her look even more panicked. "What – what, are you hurt?" she asked again, her gray eyes level with his green ones.

"No," he breathed. "No." He placed a hand to his head and felt something on top of it. Probably bandages. Then he remembered why.

"Are – are you still mad at me?" he coughed out. Annabeth looked mortified as she answered. "It wasn't me, Percy – it was probably an eidolon. We only made them promise to lay off the ship's inhabitants, and you three. Oh, know – I bet it realized it could control me. I'm so sorry, Percy!" she cried, burying her face in his shirt.

"Don't fret," said Percy, patting her on the shoulder awkwardly yet lovingly, and he was surprised at how his voice sounded. All those trash about how voices reflected their speaker's personality was stupid. He wasn't actually feeling calm; in fact, he was feeling panicky and tired. But at least Annabeth wouldn't worry so much. "I knew it wasn't really you. I could tell," he half-lied, half-told the truth.

The truth was, he'd noticed the strange cloudiness and unfocused look in her eyes, but nonetheless, he'd been stung. Knowing she wasn't completely herself wasn't actually enough to shield him from the pain. Annabeth looked at him with great gray eyes, shiny with tears despite herself. "You sure?"

"Yeah," he mumbled. "Where are we, actually?"

"Miles away. I woke up with a great deal of pain and found you lying with a pool of blood on the ground. It was very terrifying. I found my backpack, which was weird, since it had been thrown away by the stupid monster, and it seemed to have magically reappeared. When I looked into it I found a note saying _Take care_, and ambrosia and nectar. I was so scared, Percy," she whispered, "so scared that you were dead, or nearly were. So I bandaged your wounds and tried to make you ingest the ambrosia, but before I got you to take in a decent amount you began to choke and cough, so I had to abandon the attempt. And then I tried to make you sip the nectar, but it was no use. Plus, you were burning up. And you are, 'til now." Fear was clearly in her voice, though she tried to keep it out of it. "I was afraid, because I knew you were weak, and I had to get some more ambrosia and nectar into your system, but I knew any more ambrosia and nectar and you'd burn up." Her eyes were really shining now. "I had no choice, Percy. I watched over you as best as I could, and when I noticed that your head was bleeding again, I changed the bandages. I waited for you to wake up."

"How long has it been?"

"Two days."

_"Two days?"_

"It's a rough estimate; I've been trying to count the hours, and I think it might have just been the 40th hour since I started counting. And I was unconscious for a few hours. We're just lucky nothing decided to attack us while we were unconscious, or else we'd be dead. Percy, what are you looking at?" she asked worriedly. It was true. Percy had been looking at the ground for a while now. "What's this?" he asked.

"A rock." She looked at him like she was afraid he had some brain damage. "Why, what's wrong?"

"Are there even rocks in Tartarus? I haven't seen volcanoes."

A smile lit her face slightly, showing relief. "Go to sleep now. You need it." He tried to protest, but she waved off all his protests. "Even your eyes are agreeing with me," she said, smiling slightly.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"Go to sleep, Percy." And she planted a kiss on his forehead, securing his obedience. "Sweet dreams," she added hastily, as his eyes began to close and he drifted into unconsciousness.

He dreamt of sweet things the color of Annabeth's hair; sweet things that his hands wanted to touch, and no matter how much he tried to reach them, they always seemed to just be out of his reach. He tried and tried, and finally he did succeed, but the moment he touched the things, they changed into hideous-looking plants that extended and grabbed his arms; one branch throttled him and he fought against it, fighting for breath. And while he was battling for his life, he heard a voice he wished he would never hear again.

_How is my little hero doing? Remember, all is not what they seem._

And black spots danced in his vision. With the plant choking him, there was no more hope. Just as his eyes began to close, he felt his shoulder being shaken and he was then whisked away into the world of the Living.

Annabeth was shaking his shoulders. She had a wild look in her eyes, a sort of desperate look that might mean what Percy thought it was. "PERCY!" she screamed. "WAKE UP!" She was so intent on waking him up; she didn't notice that he already _was _awake.

"Annabeth," he mumbled. The sound of his voice surprised him; it was so calm, quite the opposite of what he felt inside. "Annabeth," he said more loudly, though he thought he detected a faint weakness to his voice. "What's wrong?"

She looked up, her eyes wet from crying. "I- I had a nightmare that you were dead, and when I woke up you looked as if you weren't breathing –"

"You FELL asleep?" he asked incredulously. It wasn't like Annabeth to slack off in her duties. In some ways, she was probably the exact opposite of Percy, who really, really liked to wait until the last moment to do his duties. If there were such a thing as a lazy Greek in the dictionary, Percy thought, it would have his name and face on it, if the dictionary had illustrations, though he secretly knew that nobody would be able to draw him right because of his perpetually messy black hair that was longer than it had been eight months ago, obviously.

Annabeth raised a hand and gestured with her finger to remain quiet; her eyes were suddenly very gray and terrified, not at all like she had looked a moment, when she'd looked as if she'd wanted to answer him sarcastically or something; she probably was so relieved to find out that he was alive, which was cooler than being dead. And now she was looking at Percy with eyes that were wild and wide at the same time. "Listen," she whispered. "Listen. What do you hear?"

Percy listened. He heard the sound of snake heads hissing and metallic objects – weapons, probably – hitting the ceiling and ground. Whoever it was sounded _very _close.

He locked eyes with Annabeth, hoping that it was enough to have her understand. She nodded, looking frightened. "Whatever they are, we fight and take flight," she murmured softly. "Whatever comes from Tartarus can't be good at all, so we'll risk so many monsters looking for us if we flee, meaning we'll have more enemies to deal with." _As if we haven't got enough of them, _her eyes seemed to say. Her eyes had never left Percy's.

"So we must stay here and kill as many monster leaders as possible, because it's possible that most of the goons left won't track us down, or if they will, it'll take them time. Leaders are supposed to be the ones tracking us down, right?" She didn't wait for his answer. "So kill the leaders, and you cripple the others. But –" A cackle interrupted Annabeth. He turned, and so did Annabeth. One look was all it needed.

They were surrounded.

Percy had faced death many times. But facing it in Tartarus, where the dead (monsters) came back to life, was totally different.

He drew his sword, Riptide. The blade's name was really _Anaklusmos, _but Percy never really introduced it as his weapon's name. It was too complicated and was too little understood by most (simple-minded) monsters. Besides, Riptide sounded way better than Anaklusmos. At least Riptide applied to him, since he was a son of Poseidon and all, people would naturally think he could rip tides. The only time Annabeth tried to explain it to him, all the facts and trivia she came up with left him with a raging headache all afternoon, though that was probably because of the heat of the summer.

Behind him, Annabeth drew her blade, too. Somehow she had gotten it back, and Percy couldn't really remember how, and he didn't really feel like it was the right moment to ask her now. She looked brave and dangerous, just like an Amazon or a Hunter of Artemis. She looked…wow.

The monsters really had tiny brains to begin with, because they charged forward without taking notice of the shiny and sharp, potentially lethal blades that had sprung into existence and were being held by the two demigods they were attacking. And they didn't know that the blades had the added ability to kill them when they touched them.

Slash, stab, parry, roll, defend. That was what normal demigods did, everyday, but instead of monsters to defeat, they had dummies. Or campers, but their opponents usually left the training center whole and unharmed. (usually)

Percy caught sight of blond hair, and he was momentarily distracted by Annabeth's hair, the way it swung and looked amazing while she was fighting those monsters, and a hellhound almost managed to kill him. He stabbed it, killing it, but not before its claws had buried themselves into his shoulder. He swore and turned to face the others.

He saw no one. Annabeth and he had dispatched all the monsters, and all of them were dust. He looked at Annabeth and saw fear and relief in her eyes.

"Let's go," she said. "The monsters will reform sooner or later, and it's best that we run before they catch us!"

"Do you have any idea where the Doors of Death are?" he asked, breathless. "'Cause I don't think we're, like, planning to go anywhere. There's always something that keeps our minds away from our goal, like monsters are chasing us, and evil spirits are possessing us, etc. etc….?" He left the question hanging.

Annabeth, who might have found reason to laugh or frown at him, merely gazed at him with a renewed spark of curiosity. He knew that look. It was her Wise-Girl-Don't-Disturb-Me look that meant she was thinking about something very important.

"Wait," she said slowly, "I think you're right. I think we were close to our goal."

"Gaea thinks so. And you can't exactly trust her opinions."

"Shhh, don't say her name. Names have power."

"Yeah, I think Grover said that to me, like, four, five years ago? Oh, never mind," he said, for Annabeth had looked at him in mild indignation. "Alright, alright, I'll shut up."

"But you have a point. I mean, you have a good point. The thing is, we must have been close to our goal, because why else would Gaea try to confuse us?"

"I don't know," he answered truthfully, "I've never tried to figure out why she does things as she does them. I'd rather ask you, and I can find an answer to it headache-free."

"Don't be sarcastic, Percy," she muttered absentmindedly. "What day is it?"

Percy raised his eyebrows good-naturedly and smiled a bit. "No calendars," he announced. "Probably been two, three days since we came here."

And he realized how stupid he sounded, as if they were in a luxurious, 5-star hotel instead of a 0-star, freaky place full of ghosts, beasts, monsters, and a supernatural grandmother who wanted you to give her your blood in exchange for the chance to see the world fall. Yipee!

But Annabeth didn't seem to mind that much. On the contrary, her face looked more serious than ever. "I know that you were out for maybe two days, give or take a day. And it was nearing sunset when we…fell inside this…place. So two days ago it was Sunday?" she asked hopelessly.

Percy was perplexed. Here was the wisest child of Athena ever, asking him for an answer to a question she couldn't solve herself. What chance did he have?

"Gaea's messing with our minds again," he said, as casually as a guy with an injured shoulder could manage. "I think we should do our best to, you know, get out of this…place. Probably…." He raised his hands to shoulder level and winced.

Annabeth, whose mind before this was probably in Annabeth-land, abruptly looked at him. "You're hurt. Aren't you?"

"No," he muttered. "And besides, it'll heal by itself. A day, two, tops."

"Drink nectar," she suggested. "Or try to ingest some ambrosia."

"No, Annabeth," he said. "I'm already feeling feverish. Any more ambrosia or nectar and I'm going to literally burn away. I think I've probably ingested more ambrosia and nectar than any other demigod in this world, at least within a couple of days," he groaned.

This was true. His skin was feeling hot, his eyes dry and very…warm too. He was running a not-too-slight temperature.

Annabeth felt his forehead. "Oh, gods, Percy. What am I going to do about this?"

Someone's voice sounded through the darkness. _You might want to rephrase that, dearest. What are you going to do about me?_

**Tons of work to do! It's a miracle I've managed to update!**

**I've put off my English homework just to work on this. Last night, I finished like, 2 and a half pages (in Word) and then I was satisfied with this. I hope you are, too. **


	10. X: Percy

**I'm so sorry for the delay! I'll try to make it up to you guys! In the meantime, why don't you scroll down and read it? Even if it's a little too short, well, at least there is something in this that will really make you regret asking for updates. :) **

**Just joking; haven't been online for a while. Enjoy! (I do hope that the effort to type 2887 words would be appreciated, and I hope that this is worth the wait!**

Percy tried to get up, but Annabeth forced him down, and instead of him she yelled:

"What do you want now?"

Oh, he thought; that was an obvious question that had an obvious answer. It was possible that Gaea had meant for them to fall into Tartarus so she could get what she wanted. She was one big, selfish, and very evil mother who liked killing. Percy felt rather glad about the fact that he was human, then realized he was still related to Dirt Face, if supernatural beings did have DNAs, that is.

But there was no answer from the Earth Mother. Annabeth yelled in frustration. But, as she picked up a rock and prepared to smash it and break it on the ground, a voice spoke, hauntingly like a human's and weirdly like a monster's, an unnaturally clever monster designed to fool humans, to them.

"Where is Percy Jackson?"

He couldn't believe his eyes. This was Gaea's answer.

"Percy Jackson?" he said, trying hard not to look guilty. "Oh, no, he's not here. Though you might want to try your luck over there; I've heard he likes the smell of burgers. I forgot; you and your cronies – sorry, your army – don't know what burgers are. You might want to try blueberry-scented perfume, though, 'cause I've heard from his friends that he loves blueberry. Not that," he amended, "I know him. I don't know him at all."

"You don't know him at all?" asked the monster haltingly, as if English was the third language it had learned.

"Not at all," replied Percy firmly. "Now, if you could excuse us…."

"Where is Percy Jackson?" the monster persisted. Behind him, Percy could see his army getting restless. He didn't want any part of his body getting near those sharp and wicked-looking spears in those monsters' hands, and he certainly didn't want Annabeth to get hurt by them, too.

"Over there! He's there; it's him; he's getting out with his, uh, poodle!" Percy shouted, pointing at the opposite direction with his quite-difficult-to-lift hand. He was getting _really _tired, and he swayed a little as he stood, but neither Annabeth nor the monsters noticed – Annabeth was too focused on trying to think of a way to get themselves out of this mess, and the monster was trying to think of what on earth – sorry, Tartarus – a poodle was. Whatever special abilities Gaea had given this monster; common sense partnered with cleverness clearly wasn't one of them.

"Run," he whispered as Annabeth looked at him, her gray eyes nearly black with worry. "Run when I tell you."

"I'm not leaving you," she said shakily. "Never again."

"Don't worry; I'm coming with you. Just wait and see," he muttered under his breath. Turning to face the leader of the army, he saw, out of the corner of his eyes, Annabeth nod twice and then resume her relentless staring at the ground.

"So hey, mind if we leave now?" asked Percy. Annabeth kicked him. "Shh," she hissed. "We were supposed to leave quietly!"

The leader of the army looked at them.

"And what do you mean by that? No Percy Jackson has appeared, which means that either you are lying because you want to or because you simply are…him."

Percy regretted thinking badly of the stupid monster.

"No, hey, look!" he said, trying to sound convincing. And it worked; the monsters all turned towards the place he was pointing at. And Percy pulled Annabeth and began to run, none too slow and quiet, and as they ran like the wind he heard what sounded like a, "AFTER THEM!" battle cry and thunderous footsteps behind them.

Percy's legs felt like they were made of lead. He stumbled, and caught himself just in time to prevent himself from landing facedown towards the ground.

"Quick!" Annabeth moaned. "Just a little bit further, Percy, a little bit farther, please!"

He stumbled again, this time very nearly landing on his face, but luckily Annabeth gripped his hand very tightly and yanked him towards her, and he struggled to breath. His head was beginning to ache. He needed more oxygen. Fast.

"In here! Go!" Annabeth yelled.

He heard her struggles with the rocks near the entrance to the dark and damp cave they were in. Struggling to get up to his feet, he staggered towards her and pushed the rocks, which immediately began to fall backwards and cover the entrance. He sank to his knees in agony as a rock hit him, hard, on the shoulder.

"Percy!" It was Annabeth. Her hand clasped tightly on his dislocated shoulder, and he yelled with pain. "Sorry!" she whispered, "but we have to get out of here! We'll be trapped and be dead and Gaea's not going to relent; she's going to try to kill us! Come on, Percy!"

"Just – just leave me here," he mumbled desperately; his shoulder was on fire. "I can hold them off. You can go and save the world; I'll hold them off for you! Just get out of here and save yourself!"

"Never! Remember what you said at the beginning – _I'm not getting away from you_!" Never!"

He didn't get to reply to her, though, because at that moment the monster army arrived, effectively making both of them reflexively turn.

"So," said a green monster whom Percy had no trouble locating, even among the swarm of sickly-green colored monsters, "we've heard you're Percy Jackson. Congratulations; you're about to be killed by the best monster army the world has ever seen."

"Yeah, I've heard," he answered them. "Only I don't think so." And when they looked at each other in puzzlement – maybe Gaea hadn't created them with fine and inquisitive minds simply because she didn't think it would matter or she forgot – Percy raised his hands, ignoring his protesting and screaming shoulder, and Riptide appeared in them; it was a huge surprise, because he'd thought that he'd lost it, but then he hurled it towards the monsters and, hands up, yelled, with all his might, for water to appear. Suddenly the cave was shaking; the rocks on the ceiling were beginning to land on the enemies' heads, and the ground was splitting into half. He could feel his hands shaking, but in a huge effort to control the water he willed himself to calm down and stop his hands from shaking, or the water would, too. Annabeth was nowhere to be seen. If she was fighting; if she was busy; if she was….No. Percy refused to think of it. She was going to appear any second from now. He just had to wait.

Among the chaos, he spotted something that seemed like blond hair to him and instinctively he made to run towards it, but something hit him so hard in the chest and the face that he keeled over, and for one horrible moment he thought the stickiness on his face was some sort of poison from a monster. Then he realized it was just blood. Good.

He stood up shakily, and realized that with his momentary collapse, his control over the water had ceased. The water was now sinking underneath the surface, and Annabeth was either at his side or fighting the monsters now; they were doomed. Unless…

Some monsters were falling into the abyss that was separating most of the army from Percy and Annabeth. He was just turning to look for her when another rock smacked him on the chest again so hard that he was winded, and by the feel of his ribs and breastbone, badly wounded. Still, he took some time to look for Annabeth and spotted her fighting a monster which Percy knew by sight and name; the hippalectryon; a half-horse, half-rooster monster which nonetheless looked dangerous despite its yellow feathers that looked almost like lumpy gold, at the other side. _The other side…_

Percy whirled around, but his attacker wasn't done yet. A one-eyed creature looked at him, with the brutal face of a villain but the stupidity of a monster. It raised its hands, which went towards Percy so fast that he had barely enough time to duck his head and avoid them. The creature's fists banged the air above him, and using one of his legs, Percy kicked out, tripping it. The good thing was that the monster was knocked out. Maybe it wasn't created to withstand so much. But the bad news was that it chose to land on his leg, causing the bones to break, with an excruciatingly painful sound, which he suspected later came from him. Another agonized sound escaped from his mouth, but he tried to clamp it shut and crawl towards the edge of the abyss he made, clenching his fist so tightly and gritting his teeth every moment of it, every time a searing pain shot up from his leg. He raised a hand and knew that, as son of the sea god, he had some control over the winds, but he wasn't sure if that would enable him to fly, but he had to try. To save Annabeth. To guarantee their safety. To kill the monsters.

He closed his eyes tightly and tried to imagine flying like there was no gravity on Earth, weightless and free. And then he felt himself move and every ounce of concentration he had turned to the direction of the winds, except maybe for those who still cried out for Annabeth.

With a _THUMP! _ and another dose of pain from his leg, he opened his eyes, and found himself on the other side of the abyss. He crawled towards the place where his sword lay, abandoned and thrown into the enemy's face earlier by him. His hands were shaking, his face was sticky with blood still seeping out from him, but what else could he do? Better die fighting and protecting Annabeth than die for nothing. Trying to ignore the pain in his leg, Percy crawled as fast as he could towards the monster Annabeth was now trying to face – a Keres. As he fixed his eyes on her he saw the monster inexplicably move back and leave a slice on its companion's shoulder, and he saw the companion attempting to retaliate and slicing the Keres' head off. But the fight wasn't over yet. A Cyclops was creeping up behind Annabeth, fists ready, stupid but triumphant smile set. And he shouted out a warning that reached her just in time to dodge the dagger thrown at her, though in her haste she tripped on some corpses that looked eerily like a human's. Craning his head, he saw, with a mixture of swear words and relief, Annabeth's backpack, sitting on the ground just mere feet from him, which surely must contain something better than what Gaea gave him. With a lot of cursing and straining, his shaking hands found it, and with his fingers opened it and found the flask that must contain nectar. It was nearly gone by now; Percy wasn't sure if it was because of his shaking hands or because of something else.

He drank it until he could feel his insides boiling and a new sense of energy surging through his veins, quickly replaced by prickly-hot bursts of pain. He remembered dimly about demigods burning when ingesting too much nectar and/or ambrosia. Come to think of it, he thought, maybe he'd ingested more nectar and ambrosia in the past few days than all those years he spent fighting monsters aboveground. His eyes were dry and hot, his face feeling warm and uncomfortably red, and his mouth parched. He felt horrible, but at least he could move his leg a bit.

Lunging towards Annabeth to save her without actually harming her was difficult enough without an injured leg. But he had to try.

With a shock, he saw Annabeth on the ground, her hair a mess of blond and soot mixed and her face white as bone. Then he saw the wound on her side, and he wanted to yell her name, to shake her as he should never do to an injured person, to hold her hand and offer his life for hers, to kill the Fury Alecto, who was shimmering in the air beside her, looking at Annabeth. To kill the monster who wanted to claim Annabeth.

His brain seemed fevered, but rage took possession of him. His sword appeared in his hand. He threw himself forwards and positioned himself beside his fallen girlfriend.

"Anyone come near her; I'll skewer you."

And they did come, his sword dooming some, but suddenly he felt hands touch the sides of his face, heard a very familiar whisper of "Percyyy…" and a wave of coldness and darkness snatched him away, bringing with it the heavy blankets of unconsciousness.

"Percyyy!"

His very head seemed to be filled with water; it hurt so much and seemed to weigh a ton. His mouth felt like a gaping hole. Then he realized, in his groggy state, that his mouth really was open, because he was gasping frantically for breath and his chest burned and felt like a one-legged man was jumping on it. He opened his eyes a fraction and saw nothing. He might have just imagined it. He might have just dreamt it.

Because if there was one thing that would haunt him forever, it was the memory of his girlfriend falling and dying at his feet.

He knew she was dead; that was for sure. In better times Percy would have let a tear or two escape from the darkness and chaos inside him, but now his exhaustion was apparently dominant, because no tear fell and no sobs escaped out of his mouth because he was too tired to. All he could do was lie on the ground and try to banish the feeling of being alone.

"Percy?" This time it was clearer.

Percy reflected, through the heavy blankets of unconsciousness threatening to envelop him, that it would be great to die with the memory of Annabeth's voice calling out for him. He wanted so much to stroke her golden locks, smile at her, and receive a smile in return, feel the warm touch of her body against his as he hugged her, and have their lips touch each other's in a final and sweet kiss, before he died. But he would never get as much as a feeling of warmth when they held hands. Because she was gone.

"Percy, you idiot; it's me!"

Surely he could not imagine her saying that to him. Or maybe he could. He opened his eyes, and realized they were open already, and his eyes met a pair of stunningly attractive and familiar gray eyes.

He barely had time to brace himself before she threw herself onto him, hands wrapping around his body, and if he were standing, he would have toppled over, but as it was, his head hit the ground with a nauseating _CONK! _ He yelled – or tried to; all the breath was knocked out of him and he could not utter even her name.

"You're alive," she murmured into his ear. "You're really, really alive."

Percy inhaled, and air rushed to his grateful lungs. "I seem to be," he admitted, a hoarse whisper escaping his mouth. "Though I wasn't so sure about you."

She smiled, the kind of smile that normally made Percy want to kiss her, but now he held back. "Of course I'm alive," she said. "What made you think I wasn't?"

He gasped for breath again. If Annabeth noticed his breathing predicament, she didn't voice it out. "If you hadn't noticed, you _died._"

She laughed. "I didn't. It was just the Mist interfering with your ability to distinguish between reality and dreams."

"You mean – you mean I was just dreaming?"

His ribs were feeling uncomfortably bruised now. Some part of him wished that she would get off him, but a major part of him yelled at the former part to shut up.

"Yeah, you were. You needn't have taken the nectar and ambrosia. I could have handled them myself, if only my ankle didn't choose that moment to flare painfully. Oh, I really thought you were dead!" She hugged him even tighter, and he could feel the last remaining (precious) oxygen leave his lungs.

"Annabeth!" he rasped out. "You're killing me!" But the last words came out as a puff of breath.

She smiled at him sweetly. "I'm sorry, Percy; I have to do this," – and then she was hugging him tighter and tighter until he stopped resisting and gave up. Just as he looked at her one last time – for a chance to see an angelic face before he went to the realm of the Lord of the Dead, he saw a blade protrude out of her chest, and the dark blood spilling on to the clothes she wore; a fashionable white dress and corduroy jeans. Her blood splattered him, too. It burned and sizzled his flesh where it touched it. She looked at him one last time – a crumpled, betrayed and hurt look – with large gray eyes. Then she seemed to fall into him, and the pressure and impact pulled him under and he was senseless to the world, but not before he heard a voice as familiar as home whispering.

_Percy_.


End file.
